


United We Stand

by VioletRoseLily



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cousin War, Divided Family, Drama, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletRoseLily/pseuds/VioletRoseLily
Summary: When Anne gives birth to triplets on that fateful September day, it seems like her future is secure. But the birth of two sons leads Mary to being convinced that her stepmother will kill her one way or another so she flees England and seeks the aid of her cousin. Henry is hurt by what he believes is her betrayal and he fears that England is on the cusp of another Cousin War.





	1. Thrice Blessed

**_April 18 1533_ **

Uncrowned queen she may be but already her future seemed secure.

"Are you sure?" Henry demanded, grasping Anne's hand tightly in his, half-afraid that he had misheard them. When he noticed that his wife was growing larger than most women did in their fourth month of pregnancy, he had summoned both a doctor and a midwife just in case there was something amiss with Anne. He was relived when he learned that nothing was wrong and in fact it was quite the opposite.

"I am quite certain, Your Majesty, I have seen it before. Her Majesty is pregnant with multiple babies: twins unless I miss my guess," the midwife replied, sounding pleased to give the royal couple this news.

Twins. Two sons. By God, having an heir and spare within one pregnancy would prove to all of Europe that he had been right to annul his marriage to Katherine. The Dowager Princess of Wales, the Spanish Emperor and that pompous fool in Italy would have a hard time trying to say that God was not on his side once he had not only a Prince of Wales and also a Duke of York.

"We have been blessed," Henry whispered after dismissing Dr. Butts and Mistress Jones. "Oh, Anne, you have made me the happiest man on this Earth."

"Oh? Have I not made you that happy already?" Anne asked with a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. She wondered what would happen if the babies were born dead. NO! She couldn't think like that. She would give Henry two sons and no one would be able to deny that she was the true Queen of England.

"The most happy," Henry quipped, kissing her cheeks and her lips before bending down to kiss her belly. "When you are crowned the people shall cheer for they will see that their new queen has England's future inside of her."

They might cheer for whatever son I am carrying but they won't cheer for me. Anne thought inwardly as she kept smiling, trying to think happy thoughts.

"In September we shall have our sons. This is God's doing and it is wonderful in our eyes," Anne quoted.

"We must share this news with everyone so they can know of our happiness," Henry told her, leading her out of the bedchamber where her family was waiting.

Dr. Butts must have already told them for George was already celebrating the good news with a glass of wine and Mary hugged Anne with a big grin on her face. Her mother, father and uncle beamed at her proudly.

"It seems that I will need two royal cradles instead of one," Henry laughed as he got his own goblet of wine.

"If I may, Your Majesty, I could send for the Boleyn cradle to be used alongside the royal cradle," Thomas suggested, thinking that would be a nice reminder to all that the newest princes were as much of Boleyns as they were Tudors.

"A grand idea," the king agreed, unable to keep the grin off his face.

* * *

 

_**June 1 1533** _

Anne protectively stroked her belly as the carriage rode past the stony-faced people standing on the streets of London. It seemed that not even the prospect of two heirs was enough to tempt the people into cheering for her.

"They will come around," she said more to herself than Henry.

"Of course they will," Henry agreed with her, keeping a smile on his face despite his annoyance at his subjects. Didn't they realize that his new queen was better than the barren Spanish woman who nothing more than his brother's widow.

A sound like a crack was heard and seconds later, Anne felt something hit the chair, just inches away from her head. When she turned her head slightly, she saw a bullet hole in the cushioned seat and realized just how close she had been to death.

"Anne, Anne, are you alright?" Henry demanded as a group of soldiers surrounded the carriage, all of them fearing that the queen had been hit. The procession had stopped and the crowds of people were murmuring curiously, wondering what had happened and whether or not the Boleyn woman had been killed on the day she was to be crowned queen.

"Just a little shaken up but I am unhurt," Anne assured him, struggling not to give in to the fear she was feeling as Henry felt the side of her face just in case she had been struck by the bullet.

"Perhaps we should return to the palace and you should lie down," Henry suggested, afraid that she might become hysterical and miscarry their unborn children.

"No!" Anne exclaimed, unwilling to appear weak. "I am fine, Henry. Let's just keep going."

"You are so brave," Henry complimented her, kissing her hand before turning towards Charles Brandon, glaring at him. "If you know what is good for you, Suffolk, I would suggest you find that gunman."

As High Constable, Charles was supposed to keep the royal couple safe. It was only thanks to an act of God that he had not failed his duty.

After sharing a kiss with Anne, Henry signaled for the procession to continue, deciding that they would switch carriages after the coronation was over.

Little did Henry, Anne or Suffolk know, that the gunman who tried to shoot the Queen had tried to shoot her a second time while they stayed their talking, unfortunately for him, he had been knocked out just as he aimed his gun at her head.

* * *

The Viscount Rochford hadn't even looked to make sure his sister was unharmed, the minute he realized that someone tried to shoot her, he had glanced towards the nearby buildings just in time to see something glinting in one of the windows and then be pulled back inside.

George didn't even think about what he was doing, he jumped off his horse, not even bothering to say anything to his father and ran towards the building, unwilling to let the shooter have a second chance to kill his sister.

Once inside, George took an unlit torch off the wall and began to walk upstairs, trying to be careful so not to let the would-be assassin know he was coming. He crept gingerly into a room where he spotted one of the King's grooms pointing a musket out the window, getting ready to aim.

Without a word, George advanced on the groom and swung the torch at his head as hard as he could, knocking the man unconscious. He kicked the musket away from the assassin and stuck his head out the window to see that the procession aside from the guards, Suffolk and Thomas Boleyn had already moved on.

Anne was safe and despite his elation, George could not help but feel smug that he had already stopped and caught the assassin he was sure that the men had stayed behind to search for.

"Suffolk, guess who just made your job easier!" he called out jubilantly, grinning down at the red-faced duke.

* * *

William Brereton was arrested and sent to the Tower of London where he could do no more harm to the Queen.

After Anne was crowned, the court reconvened at Westminster palace for a banquet in honor of this day. Henry hoped that the celebration would erase the griminess of what had happened. Not only had the common folk continued to be aloof and cold towards his beloved wife, one of his grooms had actually tried to kill her.

"There will be no trial, he tried to kill my wife and our future heirs. Therefore, there should be no question that he has committed treason. He is to be hanged, drawn and quartered as soon as possible. I will not have his evil blunt what should be happy days for the entire kingdom," Henry snarled at Cromwell and Audley. When the two men nodded and were dismissed, he rounded on the Duke of Suffolk. "Charles, you are very lucky that Rochford managed to stop Brereton or you would have taken his spot in the tower for failing your duty twice."

"I apologize, Your Majesty," Brandon said, half-wanting to point out that if Henry had not told the procession to stop, Brereton wouldn't have had a second chance to try to kill Anne agian. The worst part was knowing that he had been upstaged by George Boleyn.

"If he had killed Anne and our sons, I'm not sure what I would do," Henry remarked, his expression turning into a forlorn one as he gazed out the window. "What if today was an omen that she will not survive the birth of our sons? I want an heir but not at the cost of my wife."

Charles was unsure if the king wanted him to say something. He tried to stomp down the part of him that was thinking it would be a good thing if Anne Boleyn died after all the trouble she had caused.

"The Queen has faced impossible odds before and overcome them," Charles reminded him, alluding to the time Anne had nearly died from the sweat. "I'm sure that she'll be fine, Henry."

He just hoped that if he was wrong, the King wouldn't follow through on his threat of sending him to the tower.

* * *

"You should have just alerted the guards instead of risking your neck by going after a man who was already willing to kill a pregnant woman," Jane snapped once they were alone in their room. "What if he had heard you coming and decided to shoot you before you could do anything?"

She had not been present during the procession to Westminster Abby but word had traveled fast about her husband's actions. It had been hard to pull George away for a moment to talk as he was so busy being showered with praise by many courtiers for his heroic act.

Jane had no doubt that King Henry would be rewarding George handsomely for his heroic deed but that did not mean that what her husband had done was not foolhardy that it could have very easily ended badly.

"He was too busy getting ready to shoot my sister to notice me creeping up behind him," George told her with a chuckle. When his wife still glowered at him, he added: "Careful, Janey, if I didn't know any better, I would think you cared about me."

"I don't want you dead," Jane said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting down on their bed. "Just because we don't get along doesn't mean I would ever want you dead or harmed in anyway."

"You are an odd woman, Lady Rochford," George laughed, sitting beside her. "I don't want you dead either."

"You certainly know how to charm a lady," Jane drawled sarcastically.

"I just saved the day, Jane, leave me be," George said in-mock annoyance.

"And already it's doing wonders for your ego," Jane remarked, smirking as her husband slammed his lips onto hers.

* * *

In an hour, there would be a feast celebrating Anne's coronation. In the meantime, Henry was in her bedchambers discussing how to reward the Viscount of Rochford's actions.

"I think I shall make him a Duke for he saved not one but three people dear to my heart today," Henry said thoughtfully, tenderly touching Anne's stomach. His eyes lit up when he felt a thump against his hand. "Our boys are strong. Perhaps we should name the Duke of York after his heroic uncle."

"Prince Henry and Prince George," Anne agreed before there was a sudden flash of trepidation appeared in her eyes.

"Anne, what troubles you?" Henry inquired, taking her hand in his. Perhaps she feared that Brereton was somehow going to escape the tower and attack her. He was about to reassure her that Brereton would die in two days and they would never have to deal with his traitorous groom again when she replied.

"It's nothing," Anne deflected, fearing that if she spoke her thought it might actually become true. She could not ask Henry what would happen if she gave birth to two girls instead of the boys he believed she was carrying as she was certain she knew what the answer would be.

Instead of seeing the birth of twin girls so early in the royal marriage as a good start, all of Europe would think that Anne had failed her duty and they would continue supporting Katherine and Mary.

The worst part was she knew no matter how much he would deny it, Henry would be disappointed that after so many years of waiting, all he got was two more daughters for his efforts. Worse he might lose his love for her just as he lost his love for the former Queen Katherine.

"Sweetheart, remember that I gave you leave to always speak honestly with me and that includes whatever burdens you might have," Henry said, lightly teasing her in hopes that he could ease her troubled mind.

Not wanting to tell the truth and hear Henry's reassurance that either that he would be happy with two daughters or that she was surely carrying two sons, Anne chose to speak of a different concern that was plaguing her mind.

"What if Brereton isn't working alone? What if he was working with someone who hopes to see me and our children dead?" the auburn-haired queen questioned.

"I can assure you that Cromwell will be interrogating him fully. If he has allies, they will share his fate," Henry replied taking her hand in his. "Leave it all too me, my love and trust that I have it all under control. Just focus on your health and our sons."

"Of course, I will," Anne agreed before changing the subject back to her brother. "I was thinking we should arrange a joust in George's honor."

* * *

_**June 22 1533** _

William Brereton was paraded through the street in chains, allowing the common folk to pelt him with rotten food when he passed on his way to the Tyburn Gallows where he would be hanged.

The Spanish Ambassador had hoped that the English people would refuse to pelt and humiliate the man whose only crime was to try and rid the world of the Boleyn witch before she gave birth to her bastards.

He had hoped that they would cheer when Brereton made his last speech calling for someone to get rid of the King's Concubine and save England from falling further into hearsay.

Unfortunately, according to the spy, he sent to watch, informed him that the common folk had indeed pelted Brereton, jeering at him, denouncing him as a traitor and a madman.

Chapuys guessed that either they were angry because the bullet could have stuck their king-who they still loved- or because despite disliking Anne, they believed the children she carried were innocent.

Queen Katherine had once said that if the harlot succeeded in giving birth to a son, the English people would celebrate, willing to pretend that he was legitimate despite their earlier promise that they would not accept anyone but Princess Mary as the King's true heir.

The Spanish Ambassador was beginning to fear that was true and now that Brereton was dead, he had no way of stopping the whore from giving birth. God help them all if she gave birth to two sons.

While Brereton had not named him as a conspirator, Chapuys was aware that Cromwell and the King suspected the Emperor's hand in the assassination attempt. Even if he could find another person who could kill the whore in such a short time span, it was too risky that whoever he approached would actually be working for Cromwell, trying to catch him committing treason.

Chapuys had no allies that he could trust to end Anne Boleyn's life or at least making her miscarry. He was running out of time and the stakes could not have been higher.

If those who supported Queen Katherine and Princess Mary's cause were lucky, Anne Boleyn would miscarry or even better give birth to two dead babies. If they weren't lucky and the whore managed to give birth to two healthy babies whether they were two boys, two girls or a boy and a girl, Chapuys feared what that would mean for both the queen and the princess.

He knew that their cause would not truly be over if the Boleyn bitch managed to do she promised but he was afraid that if she did, Princess Mary would be in grave danger. The false queen had already railed against her stepdaughter and it was whispered that she wished for her death.

How long after having her sons, would Anne Boleyn wait to get rid of her two rivals either through witchcraft or poison? He wouldn't put it past her to kill them if she only had daughters as she was surely aware that King Henry would doubt that he had been right to set his wife and daughter aside for the Boleyn bitch when all she gave him was two more daughters.

The Holy Roman Emperor shared his ambassador's fears and had ordered Chapuys to protect his aunt and cousin. He would not fail his master: he would find a way to smuggle Mary and Katherine out of England if it came to that.

It was a drastic and risky move but Chapuys had no more options and he was running out of time. But first he would need to convince Queen Katherine and Princess Mary to flee their country, leaving their people at the heretic king's mercy.

* * *

**_September 7 1533_ **

Anne's water broke early in the morning when Henry had come to share a meal with her. He had just entered the room when his wife realized their sons were coming and he was unceremoniously ushered out of the room.

Hours passed as Henry paced in the outer chamber, listening to the screams of his wife as she gave birth. Then between three and four in the afternoon, he heard a baby wailing and it took him all of his self-control not to run into her bedchamber to meet his first-born son.

"Your Majesty, Her Majesty has given birth to healthy princess," Lady Madge Shelton announced, looking rather uncomfortable to be giving the King such disappointing news.

"And Anne, how is she?" Henry demanded, swallowing his feelings of displeasure, consoling himself with a reminder that a healthy daughter was a good omen especially if she was followed by an equally robust brother.

"She is fine, Your Majesty, Mistress Jones believes that the second baby won't be long now," Madge replied, relived that soon her cousin's pain would soon be over. She just hoped that the second baby would be the son Anne craved.

"Good. Tell her that our daughter shall be named Elizabeth for her mother and mine," Henry ordered, wanting Anne to know that he was not angry at her for giving him a princess instead of a prince.

Surely if God was kind enough to give him a healthy daughter, He would also bless England with the Prince of Wales that everyone had been waiting for.

* * *

The bitter taste of defeat in Anne's mouth turned into sweet victory when at approximately four o'clock, Mistress Jones announced that the second baby was a boy. However, her happy expression convoluted into one of pain when another contraction swept through her body.

Mistress Jones passed the baby boy to Jane before returning to the end of the bed to examine Anne.

"There's another baby coming. You must keep pushing!" the midwife commanded her, ignoring the dark look the queen shot her. As if Anne couldn't have figured that out herself.

While the Prince of Wales had taken fifteen minutes to arrive after his sister, his sibling did not seem to want to wait and after five minutes of pushing, Anne finally fell back on her pillow, exhausted and aching.

"It seems we have a Duke of York after all," Mistress Jones laughed, as she gave the child a slap so he could breathe properly.

A rush of elation swelled Anne's heart as she realized what that meant. She had given birth to an heir, a spare and precious princess in one pregnancy during her first year as queen.

Despite wanting to tell the midwife to bring her children to her, Anne's eyelids felt heavy and she felt so tired. She could barely hear what everyone was saying as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

She had done it. She had won.

* * *

King Henry stared at the two cribs that held the three babies: his long-awaited heirs. The little Duke of York would have to share his cradle with his sister while a third one was being crafted.

He had already decreed that the princess would be named Elizabeth and he refused to name the Prince of Wales anything other than Henry but as for the Duke of York, Henry would wait until Anne had woken up before they decided what to name him.

There were a few options that he had thought of. He would have loved to honor his mother's father by calling the child Edward or perhaps after his father's father, Edmund Tudor. Of course, he and Anne had discussed naming him George but they had thought that naming him after England's patron saint would fly in the face of Reformation. Considering Henry and Elizabeth shared their names with their paternal grandfather and both of their grandmothers perhaps the Duke of York should be named Thomas after his maternal grandfather.

"Your Majesty, the queen is awake and asking for her children," Mary Boleyn informed him.

Henry blinked, realizing that it was now dusk. Just how long had he stood there, admiring his children? After shaking his head to clear it, Henry scooped up the Prince of Wales in his arms, leaving Mary and Jane to pick up their nephew and niece.

Despite his father walking toward his mother's bedchambers gingerly, not wanting to jostle him awake, the prince opened his eyes and waved his little hand as if he was saying hello to his papa.

"He knows me," Henry whispered delightedly, planting a kiss on his son's tiny forehead.

* * *

Anne was sitting up in her bed, wide awake but no less tired looking. She beamed at Henry and moved over so he could sit with her on the bed.

"Our boy," Anne murmured as she stroked his face.

"Prince Henry of Wales," Henry told her, kissing the top of her head before moving the infant into her arms and then he gestured for Mary and Jane to bring his siblings to their father. "And this is Princess Elizabeth and our unexpected and wonderful surprise Duke of York. I thought you might like to name him."

Anne chewed her lip thoughtfully as she studied the boy and girl in her husband's arms.

Her first instinct was to name him George-now the Duke of Northampton- even though she knew her father and uncle would feel slighted but a few days ago, Jane had confided in her that she was pregnant and Anne was certain that George would want to name his son after himself and not their father.

Even if Anne had wanted to name her son after her father and uncle, she felt there were too many men named Thomas at court. However, that didn't mean she didn't want to name him after a Boleyn to remind everyone that despite their views of her, she had done what their precious Princess Dowager couldn't: given birth to a healthy male heir and a spare as well.

Her great-grandfather had been the mayor of London and it the Boleyns had risen from their humble roots once he was knighted.

"What about Geoffrey?" Anne suggested.

"If it pleases you then it shall be done. For I can never thank you enough for the gifts you have given me," Henry told her, kissing her lips, trying not to upset the two babies in his arms. "You have saved England from civil war, Anne. Surely now there will be peace."

Prince Henry of Wales, Prince Geoffrey, Duke of York and Princess Elizabeth.

They were truly on the edge of a golden world.


	2. Gracious in Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Henry and Anne have their heirs, the people who were once against them now are trying to get on their good side, some of whom have a big agenda. Meanwhile Chapuys tries to get the former Queen Katherine of Aragon to agree with his plan before it's too late and her daughter finds herself surrounded by enemies with no allies to help her.

_**September 8 1533** _

At approximately seven in the evening, the sounds of bells, cannon fire and fireworks reverberated throughout London. Within the hour, the entire city seemed to be celebrating the birth of not one but two heirs, three if the newborn princess was counted along with her brothers.

The common folk drank their free wine as they toasted the queen they had just recently been calling a haughty whore. Now they praised her for her remarkable achievement for not many women could birth healthy triplets and live to tell the tale-and on her first pregnancy too.

Nearly everyone had an opinion on the Tudor Triplets' birth, some more cheerful than others.

"God has certainly smiled on the King's marriage."

"Do you remember that mad nun of Kent who made all those ridiculous prophecies? I wonder if she's heard the news yet."

"I feel sorry for poor Queen Katherine and the Princess Mary. God has chosen who he sided with and it has been proven that His favor is not with them."

"Bah, I don't feel sorry for an old woman with a dried up womb. From what I hear she was hoping that her daughter would marry the Spanish Emperor, with England as her dowry."

"It matters not. Good King Henry and Queen Anne have given England two Princes and a Princess. God bless the King and Queen. God bless Prince Henry of Wales, Prince Geoffrey of York and the little Princess Elizabeth!"

* * *

As the news of the three heirs spread through the city and into the countryside, the celebrations in Greenwich Palace were going well past midnight.

There was much drinking and loud merriment going on. There were several targets set up for the men to hit with their mock pistols.

Henry laughed as his shot hit just a little to the left of the center, his spirits were far too high to care that Charles had hit the dead center of his target, winning the match.

"Perhaps I have drank too much wine and now my aim is off," Henry suggested good-naturedly as the two men handed their pistols to one of the servants.

"Or perhaps I have not drunk enough," Charles contradicted, smiling widely. He might be on Katherine of Aragon's side but there had been so little to celebrate in the past twenty years that he could not help but be happy that there was a Prince of Wales in the nursery even if he wasn't fond of triplets' mother.

"Well there is enough wine and ale to go around, my friend," Henry assured him, clapping him on the back before glancing around the Great Hall, studying his courtiers' faces, hoping to see that they were all truly pleased with the birth of Prince Hal, Prince Geoffrey and Princess Elizabeth.

Cromwell was not here but that was to be expected as he had much work to do, handling the statecraft that came with the triplets. Henry had no doubt that his secretary was pleased that they had two princes and a princess to silence those who cried that as punishment for defying the Pope and separating from the church in Rome, the royal marriage would be childless.

While Charles seemed to be enjoying himself, Henry could not help but think his wife seemed quite somber. If it were any other lady, one might have thought that perhaps the Duchess of Suffolk was just not enjoying the loud festivities and the fact that her husband was dancing with a pretty woman instead of her. However, Catherine Brandon was the daughter of Katherine of Aragon's most faithful lady and the red-haired monarch could guess that she was not the only one of his former wife's supporters who were feeling rather unhappy at the news that Anne and he had won.

There were a few of Anne's ladies in the Great Hall dancing with the men of the court. Henry could spot the blonde woman, Mistress Eleanor Luke among them. He remembered Charles pointing her out and he had been tempted to make her his mistress while Anne was unable to preform her wifely duties but he had thought better of it. He had not wanted to take the risk that his queen might hear of his mistress and throw a jealous fit, costing them their heirs.

The Duke of Northampton was laughing with his friends, declaring that God must have guided him to Brereton on that fateful day so he could be his nephews and niece' knight, protecting them from harm along with their mother.

The Earl of Wiltshire was talking cheerfully with Norfolk, looking quite pleased and smug. After all, his daughter was queen, his grandson was the future king and he would be getting a dukedom by the end of this year.

The ambassadors to England were not here. No doubt they were sending letters to their masters of what was happening in England. Earlier Cromwell had informed the French and Scottish Ambassadors that King Henry wanted King Francis of France and King James of Scots to be his sons' godfathers.

King Henry wondered how the Emperor and the Pope would react to the news that the woman they derided had given birth to healthy triplets-two of them boys. Would they realize that they had chosen the wrong side, swallow their pride and recognize Henry's true wife and children?

Doubtful. It would be more likely that Emperor Charles would cleave to his aunt and cousin's cause out of family loyalty and Pope Clement would do so out of anger that England dared to recognize the corruption of the Catholic Church and decided not to take the abuses of the clergy lying down anymore.

But it hardly mattered what Katherine's ignorant allies thought for Henry and Anne had proven them all wrong.

* * *

Eustace Chapuys had traveled through the night to get to the More, wanting this horrible news to be given to the poor queen by a friend instead of an enemy.

Katherine of Aragon and her daughter had gone through so much humiliation and now that her rival had managed to give birth to two sons, he had no doubt that it would get much worse for them.

The Boleyns had already shown themselves to be scoundrels by trying to poison More and Fisher. How long would it be before Katherine and Mary were poisoned? And if the English people could fool themselves into thinking that the whore's bastards were legitimate, would they even care about the queen and princess they once adored? Even if they did, it wouldn't take them long to forget about them, choosing to celebrate the false queen and her brats instead.

He would have to convince Katherine and Mary to flee the country before it was too late, something that would prove to be difficult when the two ladies were so far apart. Luckily Mary still had her governess, Margaret Pole whose family was willing to help the fallen princess to flee. He had already arranged a ship to smuggle Katherine and Mary out of England and a formatted a plan to trick King Henry into thinking that his wife and daughter were coming to London to submit to his will so they could have a way to transport the two women with little suspicion.

All he needed to do was convince Katherine and Mary and they would be in Spain before the Boleyns or Howards could even hire a poisoner. There was no doubt in the Ambassador's mind that Princess Mary would agree to flee if her mother did. Unfortunately, he knew that convincing Katherine to abandon her adopted homeland and call upon foreign aid would be tricky. But he would try and God willing he could save them both.

When he is ushered into Katherine's rooms, he is disheartened to find that she is in her bed, looking pale and haggard. She had been sick so often and he knew that the news of her rival's success would only make her health worse.

"My husband's concubine has birthed a boy, hasn't she?" Katherine guessed as she noted the look of despair and regret on the ambassador's face.

"I'm afraid it's much worse than that, Your Majesty, she has given birth to two boys and a girl-all of them healthy," Chapuys reported, hating the doleful look on the queen's face. If only the whore had given birth to a girl or better yet a stillborn, then there was no doubt that Katherine's cause was just and she would have no reason to look so defeated

"So the scandal of Christendom has done as she promised and now my hopes are over," Katherine murmured helplessly, as she thought of her poor daughter who would remain disinherited and separated from her parents for she had no doubt that Henry would view an heir and a spare as proof of God's favor.

Why?

It was a sin to question God's will and yet Katherine could not help but wonder why. Why had God chosen to grant Anne Boleyn the sons he had denied her? Surely He wanted King Henry to return to his true wife and daughter and therefore should have denied the monarch His favor until Henry had done so.

"Your Majesty, I fear that it is dangerous for you to remain here in England. The whore is known to practice witchcraft and she has often called for your and your daughter's deaths," Chapuys began. "Your nephew is willing to grant you both asylum in Spain and he will invade England on Princess Mary's behalf."

"I am an old barren woman, the Boleyns just need to wait for me to die naturally as I do not pose much of a threat," Katherine pointed out with mirthless chuckle that turned into a cough. "As for Mary, if she leaves England and the Holy Roman Emperor invades on her behalf, she will forever be seen as a traitor."

"If the Boleyn's brat takes the throne, England will be lost to hearsay, Your Majesty. Only the Princess Mary has any chance of undoing the harm her father has caused," Chapuys warned. "I fear she will not even get the chance to try if she remains in England. While you might be right about you not posing any threat, your daughter will and I am afraid for her."

Katherine hesitated. Although she did not truly believe that Anne Boleyn was a witch and she doubted that she or her relatives would be so foolish to poison Mary when they would be the most obvious suspects, that did little to quell her fears.

The old queen knew that her health was becoming worse every passing month and she doubted she would live past her fiftieth birthday if she even made it to then. Without her, Mary would have very few friends to count on and those who sympathized with her would now be more willing to accept the King's newborn heir despite knowing that he and his siblings were bastards.

Even if one of the boys died tomorrow or Anne was never able to convince another child, she doubted that Henry would ever forsake her and reinstate Mary as the Princess of Wales and as his true heir.

Not to mention, if the rumors could be trusted, Henry wasn't planning on stopping his crimes against the Catholic Church with declaring himself the head of the English church. Cromwell was convincing him to close down monasteries that were supposedly corrupt and sell off the land that once belonged to the clergy.

But if Mary went to Spain, she would be labeled a traitor and Henry would see his own daughter as an enemy, which meant there would be no chance for a peaceful reconciliation between them.

No, as tempting as it was to ask her nephew to use his army to forcibly restore her and Mary, she could not condone the bloodshed that would happen as a consequence to making such a decision.

"I appreciate your loyalty and concern but I cannot agree to such a thing. Mary is Henry's beloved daughter, he will not allow any harm fall her," Katherine said with far more conviction than she felt.

"I hope you are right, Your Majesty," Chapuys whispered, making the cross sign. "I pray that God will protect you both."

Katherine blinked away tears as she realized that her little Prince Hal would be twenty-two-years-old if he had lived. If he had lived, Henry would never have dreamt of trying to annul their marriage despite his infatuation with Anne Boleyn. Mary and she would have been safe. If her son had lived, he would be married to a princess by now, hopefully one of Katherine's blood. Instead of being labeled a bastard, Mary would probably be off to France by now, having married the dauphin. With England's future queen being Spanish, Katherine was sure she would have accepted her sweet daughter being the future queen of France.

But Hal had died and so had every other baby save for Mary. If given the chance Katherine would never change her daughter's sex and despite what Henry might think she was sure that Mary would make a wonderful queen regent just as her grandmother Isabella had.

Once the Spanish Ambassador had left, Katherine buried her face on a pillow, weeping softly over her broken dreams.

She had hoped to be Queen of England alongside her husband, Arthur. She had hoped to give birth to the Prince of Wales she knew Henry craved. She had hoped that her daughter would marry her nephew and her adopted country would be forever tied to her birth country through her grandchildren. She had hoped that her daughter would become the first undisputed Queen Regent.

But she had failed making these wishes a reality. She had failed utterly and there was nothing she could do to fix it.

* * *

_**September 23 1533** _

"Elizabeth Barton's known supporters are the following: John Fisher, Edward Bocking, John Dering, Henry Gold, Hugh Rich and Richard Risby," Cromwell read from the list in his hands. "They will be arrested tomorrow and while I believe that a Bill of attainder can be used for most of them as it was Mistress Barton, I would suggest having a trial for Bishop Fisher, so we are not accused of acting unfairly."

"And you are sure there is enough evidence to convict Fisher?" Henry demanded, knowing that as an ardent opposer of both Anne and the church reform, the common folk might declare that Fisher was guilty of nothing but displeasing the king even though the king's word was law and therefore Fisher was indeed guilty of treason.

"He was among the men who declared that Brereton's prophecy of you dying after Queen Anne births a daughter was true," Cromwell pointed out, a vindictive edge to his voice. "It is treason to imagine the death of the king and now that Barton's vision has been disproven, we can say with most certitude that those words were nothing more than imagination."

Henry could not help but chuckle. When Fisher was repeating Barton's so-called vision from God, he had called it a warning. Now that Anne had safely given birth to a daughter (along with two boys) and Henry was alive and well, they could use Fisher's own words to condemn him.

"Anything else?" Henry asked, glancing out the window, to judge the time from the position of the sun. He had promised Anne to visit her during the afternoon after their children had finished their feeding and were brought up to the queen's apartments where she was still confined to her bed.

"Yes, about your daughter, Lady Mary," Cromwell began, sounding rather nervous. Three days ago, Audley had gone to castle Lady Mary was staying at to extend an invitation from King Henry so the former princess could meet her new siblings. It had not gone well. "Unfortunately, she is unwilling to accept your invitation so long as her new brother is labeled the Prince of Wales as she claims she is the Princess of Wales and your true heir."

The red-haired monarch scowled darkly. His daughter was very much her mother's creature and she refused to see sense regarding her position. Instead of acting like a dutiful daughter, she chose to be as stubborn and insolent just like her mother, refusing to accept that Anne was his queen and that their children were legitimate.

She told Wiltshire, when he had gone to tell her about Cranmer declaring her parents' marriage null and void, that she would recognize no queen but her mother. And now, when Henry had hoped to make amends with her, she dared to insult her siblings, all but calling them bastards.

"I have been patient with my daughter for quite some time. No more. If she thinks that I will forgive her insolence and allow her to convince others to snub my wife and legitimate children then I have no choice but to punish her," Henry said, his voice deathly soft. "Her household will be dissolved and she will be sent to Hatfield where she will wait on my trueborn princess- no, it would be more fitting if she was a servant to Prince Henry of Wales."

After all, Mary claimed to hold that title and until she relented, she would be a servant to his true heirs.

As much as he loathed to humiliate his pearl, she needed to learn her place.

If Cromwell thought Henry was being too harsh or if he feared that making Mary a servant in Hatfield would backfire by rousing sympathy for the fallen princess, he did not show any emotion or offer any protest.

"I will see to it at once, Your Majesty," Cromwell told him with a bow, his expression and tone carefully bland.

"Good. If that is all, I shall go see my wife," Henry decided, barely waiting for Cromwell to nod in agreement before getting up off his throne and storming out of his audience chamber, feeling rather frustrated by Mary and his former wife.

He had hoped that after the birth of his children, his problems would be over. Unfortunately, it was clear that it would never be that easy.

* * *

The first thing Henry heard when he strolled into his wife's bedchambers was the sound of his wife singing softly.

His bad mood instantly evaporated and he smiled softly as he saw Anne holding three bundles in her arms as she continued to crone a lullaby. Once she finished, the nursemaids carefully took the babies from her and slowly made their way out of Anne's rooms, making a shallow curtsy when they spotted the king.

Once he was sure his children were far away and could not be awoken by their father's voice, Henry sat down beside Anne, putting his arm around her.

"I'm sorry that I was late getting here, my love," Henry said, kissing her lips chastely. "I would have loved to at least have been here when you started singing our precious children to sleep."

"Honestly, they seemed tired from the moment they got here. I felt that because I am not able to feed them, at least I could sing them a lullaby," Anne explained, a flash of sadness appearing on her face.

She knew that queens were not as involved in their children's lives as many mothers could be. It was a great disappointment that she could not feed her children from her breast, although she did realize that with triplets, it wouldn't have been feasible to feed all three of them together.

Soon Prince Henry, Prince Geoffroy and Princess Elizabeth would off to Hatfield for their own little household and Anne would only be able to visit her children sparingly. Part of her wished that they could stay at court permanently but she knew better than to ask.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Henry inquired, guessing Anne's thoughts and wanting to distract her from their children's departure. Luckily he had decided to wait until December for them to be sent to Hatfield, giving their parents plenty of time to spend with them.

"I'm feeling much better and I know this because each passing day, the urge to ignore Dr. Butts, get out of this accursed bed and rejoin the court has gotten stronger," Anne half-jested, pulling a face at the thought of being stuck here for a fortnight-although to her, it might as well have been another month.

While Anne had been weak and sleepy during the first few days after she had given birth, she had rapidly been getting her strength back. The royal physician believed that she was healing well and she would be churched by October.

However, he cautioned that Henry and Anne should wait at least five months before they had sexual relations, fearing that if the queen got pregnant so soon after giving birth to triplets, it would cause harm to her body.

When he had said that they should hold off for another five months, Henry could see the apprehension in Anne's eyes and he could guess that she was worried that he would seek a mistress to satisfy him while she couldn't. Although Henry was not looking forward to the long months without a companion in his bed, he vowed to stay faithful to the woman who had given him three children.

After all, he had waited seven years for her and she had proven that she was worth the wait.

"It won't be much longer, Anne, soon you will be ready to mingle with the court. In fact, why don't we have a Christmas masquerade to celebrate your first Christmas as queen," Henry decided, his eyes lighting up, realizing a surefire way to cheer Anne up. "Even better perhaps sometime in October, we can organize some festivities in your honor. After all, we will be having a joust and feast in honor of Hal, Geoff and little Bess so why not honor their mother as well."

"That does sound nice," Anne agreed. "I suppose planning a masquerade will give me something to do while I'm stuck in bed."

"Ah, ah, this masquerade is for you and I want you to be surprised for it," Henry told her, wiggling his finger in a mock rebuke. Anne gave him a pleading look. "I promise that it will be worth the wait."

"All right, if you insist," Anne agreed, putting her head on his chest, enjoying this peaceful moment where they just lay on the bed together.

"Here's some news that might cheer you up. I have received letters from Germany. Apparently, Martin Luther and his followers have reconsidered their stance on our marriage and have extended their congratulations on our recent miracle," Henry remarked, an ounce of humor in his otherwise gruff voice. "The Elector of Saxony writes that William Tyndale is eager to return to England."

"Oh? Does he have plans to recant that lovely pamphlet of his?" Anne asked rhetorically, her tone slightly mocking.

Originally Martin Luther and his followers believed that the Great Matter was yet another abuse of the church. Tyndale had stated that Henry's wish for an annulment was a ploy by Wolsey to get England entangled in the papal courts for whatever reason. Despite the death of Wolsey and England's break from Rome, they still persisted that Katherine, a stanch Catholic, was the true Queen and Anne, who believed in their cause, was nothing more than a concubine.

"I suspect he will as he wishes to have an audience with him at my earliest convenience. Cromwell believes that this is Saxony's first step in asking England to join forces with the Schmalkaldic League," Henry continued. According to Cromwell, if England were to join, the two other Lutheran countries, Sweden and Denmark, might agree to ally themselves as well. Together they might be able to defeat the Holy Roman Emperor, something Henry was quite eager to do.

"May I sit with you when you meet with Tyndale if he arrives after I'm churched?" Anne asked with a smile. She would not gloat but she would be all too happy to make the man she once revered just a little uncomfortable.

"Well you are my queen," Henry agreed, smirking as he nuzzled her hair. "That's not all, my darling, when the French Ambassador was requesting permission to return to France, he hinted that King Francis would be willing to make a betrothal between his young son Prince Charles and our daughter."

Part of Anne felt that it was far too soon to even be thinking of their twelve-day-old daughter being the bride to any prince especially one who was six-years-older than her. However, she understood the significance of Elizabeth being betrothed to King Francis' youngest son. For any monarch to accept a bride who the Emperor and the Pope claimed was illegitimate for his son, even though this son was only third in line, was a powerful statement which could not be ignored. That is if King Francis was truly willing to go through with a marriage agreement. After all, he was a stanch Catholic and it was rumored he was seeking to make peace with his enemy, Emperor Charles.

"Well we wouldn't want to seem too eager so why don't we wait until he does more than drop a few hints," Anne suggested, her tone playful.

"Of course we should wait. Our daughter is just as much as a miracle as her brothers and I have no intention of tying her to a lesser prince in case there is a future king suitable to be her husband," Henry assured her, mistaking his wife's words to mean something else entirely.

"Queen Elizabeth Tudor," Anne said, affection in her eyes. She felt pleased that despite Elizabeth not being male, Henry viewed her just as important as her two brothers. "That feels right."

"She will be as beautiful as her mother," Henry declared.

"I have no doubt that Hal and Geoffrey will be as handsome as their father," Anne gushed, cupping Henry's face in her hand and kissing his lips lovingly.

For the rest of the afternoon they lay there, talking about nothing really just enjoying each other's company.

* * *

_**October 30 1533** _

_**Saxony** _

The Pope called Martin Luther a heretic and would have had him executed had Fredrick III of Saxony not "kidnapped" him and brought him to safety. Despite only converting to Lutheran on his deathbed, Fredrick had been Luther's supporter through and through. Now it was up to his brother to carry on his legacy.

Years of being hated had turned Luther into a cynical man who was not so willing to forgive a king who had written a pamphlet condemning him and continued to flaunt the abuses of the Catholic Church by hiring men like Thomas Wolsey and using God's word to get an annulment just so he could have a son.

"You want to ally with a man who cannot seem to stick to side when it comes to territory disputes between Spain and France, just picking whichever monarch has annoyed him the least. Not to mention throwing a fit when he doesn't get what he wants and that is the only reason why he chose to break away from the Bishop of Rome," Martin Luther sneered, his eyes narrowed. "And I have a feeling that the confiscation of church land has less to do with corruption and more to do with filling the royal treasury."

"That is not the point," John said smoothly, a nonplussed expression on his face. "It doesn't matter why he left the Flock of Rome. The fact that he did and he has a grudge against not only the Pope but also the man whose thumb I am, along with the other German Princes, currently under is more important If he joins, Sweden and Denmark will follow. If we are lucky he might help us convince Scotland and France to aide us in driving the Holy Roman Emperor out of Germany for good."

"And here I thought our cause was against the corruption of the church not the freedom of Germany," Martin Luther grumbled.

"We cannot spread our reform with the Emperor out for our blood, Martin. Think about it, if your followers have no reason to fear speaking the truth, we can convince more people that our cause is just," John told him, his eyes shining in excitement. "The King of England got his sons and his new wife is a follower of the reformation. I have no doubt that while his father might not be as faithful to the reform as we might hope, the little Prince of Wales will be a true Lutheran, untainted by Catholic _filth_."

Martin could not help but feel slightly unnerved by the venom in the other man's voice and the fanatical gleam in his eyes. But he pushed past his own feelings and nodded, realized that his friend had a point.

Silence fell over the over the room as both men became lost in thought. Minutes later they were interrupted by a page who announced that he had a letter from William Tyndale.

John Fredrick paid the boy before breaking the seal, emptying the envelope, eagerly reading the contents of the letter. Martin watched him, studying his friend's expression as he reacted to Tyndale's report of his meeting with the king.

First the elector's brow was creased and his lips pressed together as his eyes darted down the parchment. Then he let out a loud laugh and practically shoved the letter in Martin's face.

"Oh you must read this part. You are going to love this," he proclaimed, his lips curving upwards and his eyes dancing merrily.

With a raised eyebrow, Martin took the letter from John's hand and read the paragraph he had marked with his fingernail.

_When I arrived at Whitehall Palace, Master Cromwell, the King's secretary greeted me, looking almost smug as he informed me that my audience was with both the King and the Queen._

_He led me to the audience chamber where they were sitting regally in their thrones. Unwilling to let me simply bow and greet them politely, King Henry pointedly introduced me to his wife, wanting to be sure that I showed her the upmost respect._

_Speaking of Queen Anne, I feel the need to comment on her appearance, as I know that there are so many rumors. She is quite lovely with deep eyes that are indeed like hooks for the soul. I saw both of her hands and I could not see a sixth finger on either of them. However, only the King will ever know if it's true that she has any moles._

_I digress, we started the meeting talking about my trip to England before Queen Anne commented that she and the King enjoyed my book, **The Obedince of a Christian Man,** very much and that the English Bible I had written was currently being distributed among the churches of England. And this was the conversation that followed:_

_"Unfortunately, your next work was rather upsetting," King Henry remarked, giving me a murderous glare that sent a chill down my spine. "You condemned my marriage with my true queen and wife and it's only now that we have been blessed with a princess and two princes do you seem willing to acknowledge her."_

_As I pictured my execution, I struggled to find the right words to say and I must admit, what I did say could have very easily backfired._

_"Your Majesty, I admit that I made an error of judgement when I condemned your marriage to good Queen Anne as I was ignorant of the justness of your cause but did you not do the same when you wrote that pamphlet condemning Martin Luther's statements against the Catholic Church?" I inquired, trying to sound brave even though I was practically quaking in my boots._

_A heavy silence descended over the chamber and I was certain that I had just dug my own grave when King Henry actually guffawed, slapping his knee._

_"Well I suppose we all jump to conclusions," he jested before turning his wife, practically beaming at her. "And it is only thanks to you, my love, that I realized the error of my judgement."_

_"I was only the messenger as it was Master Tyndale's book that truly opened your eyes," Queen Anne pointed out, flashing me a smile that I couldn't help think resembled a cat that had gotten the cream._

_"Quite true," King Henry agreed, looking back at me with a thoughtful look on his face. "I shall send an ambassador to Saxony to speak to Elector John Fredrick but I wish for you to stay in England."_

_"Oh?" I asked, feeling slightly apprehensive._

_"Yes, I want you to write a new pamphlet, detailing how Queen Anne's first pregnancy ending in healthy triplets with her being no worse for the wear afterwards is a sign from God that He has blessed our union unlike my cursed marriage to my brother's widow."_

_I have no doubt that this was an order not a request, I can tell you that. Therefore, it seems that I will be staying in England indeterminately. I shall be a guest at court until the King has picked out a new estate for me._

_It seems that the King is quite accommodating as he has been proven right and is willing to extend a hand to any ally even if he has been upset by them so long as they are on his side now._

Martin Luther could not help but smirk.

"An error of judgement? I suppose that's one way of putting it," he chuckled.

"When you responded to King Henry's pamphlet all those years ago, it's a pity you didn't tell him that he would one day agree with your words against the Pope and the Catholic Church. If you had, you could send him a nice message consisting of: 'I told you so'," John jested, causing his normally serious friend to laugh.

"Now I would have loved to see his reaction if I did that," the former monk agreed.

John poured two goblets of wine, handing one to Martin before raising his glass prompting Martin to do the same. "To England and the Schmalkaldic League."

"To the reformation!" Martin toasted as they clinked their glasses.

* * *

_**England** _

Lord Thomas Boleyn could not have looked more smug. After all, in the past year, he had become the father of the Queen of England, the grandfather of England's heirs, the father of a duke and now at last he was a duke in his own right.

England had four dukes, not counting the Duke of Cornwell and the Duke of York, and he was now the fifth. And when Jane had George's son, he would inherit two dukedoms, surpassing his cousin the future Duke of Norfolk in terms of peerage.

"Lord Thomas Boleyn, by order of the King, you are now the Duke of Wiltshire," Cromwell recited as King Henry removed the Earl's cornet and replacing it with the Duke's cornet.

"Rise Your Grace," Henry commanded regally, glancing at his wife who looked quite pleased that her father now had the title he had craved for so long.

It was well known that Thomas was an ambitious and calculating man but he clearly knew why he had received his dukedom and while he thanked Henry, the affection in his eyes were solely for his daughter.

Not to mention, he was willing to let his day be upstaged even making a lighted-hearted remark that Anne would be far more gracious with the honor Henry would surprise her with today than George had been when he became the Dukedom of Northampton months before his father was made the Duke of Wiltshire.

Henry knew that making Anne a marquess in her own right had been an unusual step as no woman had ever had such a high peerage of their very own. However, when she had given birth to triplets, he had been unsure that he could ever thank her enough for what she had done for him. He hoped that this would be a start.

Master Cromwell waited until Wiltshire had returned to his seat before reading the next name to be honored. Everyone was aware that there would be two dukes made today-as they could see that there was another duke' cornet on the velvet pillow—but they had not realized who it would be. Only Anne's father, Audley and Cromwell knew what was going to happen.

"Queen Anne Boleyn, by the grace of the King, you will henceforth be invested in the as the Duchess of Bedford," Cromwell recited, ignoring the gasps of the crowd.

As Anne was queen and replacing her crown with a duke's cornet would be rather silly, she was not prompted to kneel nor was the duke's cornet placed on her head. However the point had been made.

His wife was a marquess, a duchess and a queen. If they had a third son, he would gain the Dukedom of Bedford and the Marquess of Pembroke. If it turned out that having triplets meant that Anne could not have any more children, then Princess Elizabeth would gain those titles no matter who she married.

"You didn't have to do that," Anne whispered to him as they led the court into the banquet hall.

"I know but I wanted to," Henry countered, smiling lovingly at her.


	3. Cruel to Be Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapuys tries to convince Katherine to flee a second time and then does something risky. Both Mary and George Boleyn are expecting someone new in their lives. Anne and Henry have a rather bad argument about Mary only to make up, agreeing that if Mary comes around, they will accept her in the family. Unfortunately, thanks to Chapuys and the Poles, they will never get the peace they were hoping for.

_**November 5 1533** _

"If Jane gives birth to a boy our father wants me to name him Thomas, for some strange reason he seems to have forgotten that his future grandchild could be a girl," George continued, rolling his eyes.

"If she was not a princess with two brothers, I'm sure I would have gotten an earful after giving birth to Elizabeth," Anne jested with only a hint of bitterness.

"How would you feel if Jane gives birth to a daughter, George?" Mary asked her brother curiously, wanting to get away from the unpleasant topic of their father.

"Honestly, knowing our father as I do, I would be overjoyed and perhaps love her more just because I know her grandfather will treat her brothers better. I have thought that we will call our daughter, if we have one that is, Mary after her aunt or Alice after Jane's mother," George said thoughtfully. "Of course I have no intention of pandering to father's vanity by calling any son I have Thomas. George perhaps or if that is too confusing, I thought I might call him Mark after Master Smeaton."

"His grandson's namesake-the first grandson to carry the surname Boleyn no less- would be a common musician. Oh, Father will love that," Anne remarked sarcastically, grinning rather impishly.

"Perhaps you should choose a name that won't antagonize Father," Mary suggested softly, knowing full well that she was one to talk. She had yet to come clean about her secret marriage to William Stafford, a simple solider. She prayed that at least Anne would be understanding as she knew their father would not.

"Sadly, my dear sister, I highly doubt that Father will like any name that is not his own," Anne pointed out reasonably. "In fact, he even demanded to know why I had named my second son Geoffrey, not caring that it was his grandfather's name."

"You see, Mary, there is no pleasing the man," George said in mock-anger. "I think I shall call him William and Father will just have to accept it."

Mary opened her mouth, only to close it again, after all William was her husband's name and it would be nice if George named his son after his brother-in-law even if he had no idea who he was. Of course considering William was her first husband's name, her children would also like it.

"I think William is a nice name. I'm sure Cathy and Hal would be thrilled that you name their cousin after their father," Mary stated, knowing that at the very least George would pretend to have been trying to make his niece and nephew happy, instead of admitting he was only naming his son William to irk his father.

"Then it's settled if I have a son, his name with be William or George. If I have a daughter, her name will be Mary or Alice," George decided.

"Should I be offended that my name won't be given to my hypothetical niece?" Anne inquired dryly.

"Well considering I don't have a Prince George of York to call my nephew, I didn't think it would matter," George teased her.

"If it makes you feel any better, Anne, I'll name my next daughter after you-if I ever get remarried I mean," Mary amended quickly, hoping her siblings wouldn't catch her mistake.

Luckily, they hadn't noticed and continued the light conversation, unaware of their older sister touching her belly, knowing that she could not keep her secret for much longer; in a few months it would become impossible.

* * *

Cromwell studied the paper in front of him with some discomfort. After all, the Act of Succession was created in case the King died tomorrow and foolish people believed that his bastard daughter was to be queen.

As unpleasant as it was to think of the king's death (God forbid, he died before the boy even began to crawl), it was important that this act was made lawful so everyone could be certain of what was to happen.

If King Henry died before his son had reached maturity, he wanted Queen Anne as regent. He had not written what would happen if Prince Henry, Prince Geoffrey and Princess Elizabeth were all to die without any heirs but Cromwell prayed that they would never have to know what might happen in that case.

God willing, King Henry would live to see the birth of his first royal grandson, securing the Tudor dynasty and long enough that those who supported the Princess Katherine and her daughter would fade into obscurity.

There was a debate in council about making everyone sign an oath declaring that Henry was the head of the English Church and that his marriage with Anne Boleyn was a true one making their children the legitimate heirs of the throne of England. Despite wanting his subjects to be loyal to only him, the red-haired monarch believed that the oath was unnecessary as God had disproven those who doubted his cause by blessing him with two sons and therefore there was no reason to act against those who clung to his former wife's side out of suborn loyalty as they were clearly in the wrong.

Despite not sharing his master's optimism, Cromwell had not argued-after all there was always a chance the king would change his mind.

In the meantime, he would begin his work with his plans to dissolve corrupt monasteries. He was about to draw up a list of monasteries that he was fully aware run things such as coining factories and brothels when Richard Rich walked in, papers in his hands.

"His Majesty has signed the death warrants," Rich said with a grimace. Fisher's trial had ended with a guilty verdict and he was sentenced to die in two months with the rest of his conspirators including the mad nun of Kent.

"I wonder if you would look this glum if it weren't for the fact that Fisher is a bishop," Cromwell sneered, wondering why so many men seemed to view bishops and popes as if they were Jesus Christ himself instead of mere mortals who gave into vices as much as any other man had.

"I have a feeling that it's not just me. Has it ever occurred to you that the death of a man of clergy not to mention what you're planning to do with the monasteries will cause people to flock to the Princess Dowager's cause?" Rich snapped.

"I don't believe it matters what I think. Fisher was a party to treason against the king and the king's people love him too much to hear such a thing," Cromwell said firmly, ignoring Rich's comment about the monasteries.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Rich muttered before placing the documents down on the desk and briskly walking out.

If rumors were to be trusted in hopes to stop the execution, Pope Paul had made Fisher a cardinal. By the time the cardinal hat arrived from Rome, it would have to be buried with the dead man.

* * *

_**November 26 1533** _

Once again, Eustace Chapuys stood in the More, hoping to convince the Queen of England to let him help her and her daughter escape to Spain. During the two months after her refusal, the whore had convinced the king to not only make his true daughter a servant to her brats but also to charge people of God whose only crime was speaking out against the Boleyn bitch.

Not only that, if King Henry was willing to kill a bishop and make his daughter a servant then Chapuys feared he would also throw her in the Tower of London if she continued to refuse to acknowledge her half-siblings as legitimate. Surely, he would never be so cruel as to call for her execution no matter how fervently his concubine tried to coax him to do so. Furthermore even if she succeeded the king would have to know that his subjects would never stand for the true princess being executed.

Even if it never got that far, Chapuys still could not discount the possibility that the whore's family would find a way to poison Mary and make it look as though she had died of natural causes.

When he entered the fallen queen's bedchamber, he was distressed to note that she looked even paler and more haggard than she had when he had last seen her. The anguish of knowing that her rival had succeeded where she had failed and therefore blinding her husband to the truth even further had taken a terrible toll on her already fragile health.

"Your Majesty, the King has been bewitched into doing much damage these past three years and I fear that he has only begun," Chapuys began, his eyes were full of pity and concern. "My master has offered to not only give the Princess Mary a safe heaven but a husband as well."

Katherine let out a mirthless laugh which became a series of hacking coughs. "A husband of his blood no doubt. I love my nephew but I am no fool. He will use either his son or his nephew to rule England through Mary," she said scathingly. "The minute Mary leaves England and marries a foreigner, England will fear that they will get a foreign king who will make them servants to the Emperor."

For all of Henry's arguments during the Great Matter, she acknowledged that the English people will be hostile to the idea of being under the thumb of whatever foreign monarch is Mary's husband.

However, she was sure that in time, England would get over their grievances for they loved Mary very much and surely, they would have accepted her as their queen regent. If her daughter fled to Spain, married a foreigner and waited until her father died to gain the throne, it would be enough time for the Boleyns and perhaps even Henry to declare her a traitor to England, poisoning their minds against Mary to the point that they would refuse to accept her at all.

"Your Majesty, I beg of you. Your daughter's life is in danger if she is not rescued immediately," Chapuys told her, a desperate plea in his voice. "Even if the Boleyns don't poison her, what will stop them from convincing King Henry that Mary is a danger to his children. If there is even a chance that he fears that she might be a danger to the sons he had wanted for so long, I fear that he might lock her away in the Tower of London if not sign her death warrant. For all the love His Majesty has for his daughter, we can't be sure that he won't convince himself that her death is the only way to ensure that she won't displace his sons."

Had he been any other man, Katherine might have taken umbrage in him insisting that he knew what was best for her daughter. However, she knew that Eustace was merely so loyal to her and Mary that he genuinely wanted to help them even if he was blind to a few truths.

"I refuse to believe it. Henry would never kill his daughter," Katherine informed him firmly. "She is the pearl of his world. He is angry at her right now but eventually he will come around and rescue her from the humiliation he is putting her through."

"Your Majesty-"

"Enough! Your Excellency, I thank you for your unwavering support along with my nephew's but I will not be a traitor to England nor will I allow my daughter to be labeled a traitor," Katherine cut him off, firmly with a chilly note of dismissal in her voice.

She would hear no more of such talk. Although she could not fool herself into thinking that Henry would return to her, she hoped that Mary and Henry could still reconcile. Something that would never happen if Mary fled England.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Chapuys murmured guiltily, wishing that Brereton had managed to kill the Boleyn whore which would have ended all four of England's problems in one single stroke. Knowing he could say nothing else to convince the poor queen to heed his plea, the Spanish Ambassador kissed her hand before he bowed and then left the room.

Katherine of Aragon started coughing again. She did not have much time left according to the doctor. Perhaps when she was dead and gone, Henry would not feel the need to defend his marriage so much and he would spare the people he had accused of being traitors because they spoke out.

Her husband had changed very much but she was certain that the man she loved was still there deep down inside.

* * *

_**France** _

Queen Eleanor of France was fuming as she walked down the corridors to her husband's study. She did not react to the sight of his mistress on his lap when the sentries let her in despite the herald having already announced her and giving them both amble opportunity to move into more dignified positions.

King Francis had never been a faithful man but at least he treated his previous wife with dignity and respect. As he was forced to marry Eleanor, he often took his anger towards her brother out on her, humiliating her by publicly favoring Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly over her.

"Would your whore mind moving off your lap so I don't have to curtsy to her?" Eleanor growled, glaring at the blonde who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"She might not mind but I would," Francis replied, nipping the lady's ear causing her to giggle. "Now what is it I can do for you, Madam?"

"I've just heard that not only have you agreed to be that bastard's godfather but also you will be sending the French Admiral to create a betrothal agreement between Charles and the Great Whore's daughter," Eleanor snapped. "May I ask what you are thinking? The Pope has found in favor of my aunt's marriage to the King of England and you spitting on his decision by even thinking to wed your son to that illegitimate brat."

"Well not that it's any of your business but I'm thinking of allying with the King of England against your brother," Francis replied smoothly. "I have nothing against the His Holiness which is why my older son has married Pope Clement's niece. After all, whether or not she's legitimate is beside the point considering she at least has royal blood flowing through her veins."

"I suppose I should be glad that you do not visit my bed otherwise you might marry off any child we have to those brats," Eleanor snarled unkindly.

"Considering how much you displease me, there is no chance of that," Francis laughed, making the woman still sitting on his lap smile and brazenly kiss his cheek much to Eleanor's disgust.

_Do all women named Anne have no decency?_

"You forget, husband, that just like you don't want me, I never wanted you either," Eleanor said sweetly.

The perplexed and shocked expression on Francis' face was enough to make the queen feel all warm and fussy. It obviously never occurred to the arrogant king of France there might be woman who didn't want him, instead of falling all over him.

With that, Eleanor sauntered out of the chamber, still angry at the thought of her stepson being forced to have a heretic and illegitimate bastard as a wife but hopefully her older stepsons would prevent the little Elizabeth from ever being the queen of France.

* * *

_**November 31 1533** _

_**England** _

The day her children would leave her and go to Hatfield was coming closer and Anne was dreading it so much, she spent every moment she could spare in the nursery just basking in the wonderfulness that was her three babies.

"Perhaps we should delay until it's warmer," Anne suggested. "After all, if they are too cold and catch ill, they might not survive." God forbid, that all three of them got sick and died, she wasn't sure she would be able to take it.

"Anne, get a hold of yourself before you become hysterical," Henry ordered gently, becoming alarmed by the sudden paleness of his wife's face. Fearing that his words come out too harsh, he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. "Sweetheart, I beg of you not to make yourself sick with worry especially when it's needless. Look at them, look how robust they are." He waved his hand over the cribs holding the sleeping babies. "They are healthy and hale since the day they were born and I have faith that they will continue to grow strong. I promise you that every precaution is being taken to ensure that their journey to Hatfield will not affect them in any way."

"And when they are at Hatfield, will they be safe there when you have put their enemy as their servant?" Anne demanded, angered by Henry's attempt to mollycoddle her.

"Enemy? You mean Mary?" Henry inquired, bewildered by Anne's words and feeling a surge of outrage at the implication that making Mary a member of the royal children's household was dangerous. "My daughter would never harm her half-siblings."

"How can you be sure of that? She hates me and calls herself the Princess of Wales, referring to our children as your bastards," Anne pointed out, shuddering as she recalled her dream last night where Mary had burnt her at the stake, throwing the triplets into the fire to burn with their mother. "And now you have put her in Hatfield which will serve to only make her resent her half-siblings more. I have heard rumors that some of Fisher's congregation have declared our children as the devil's spawn. What if the Lady Mary agrees with their assumption and decides one night to smother our children, believing she is riding England of the devil?"

While Anne doubted that the former princess would murder an innocent child, especially not her half-siblings in cold blood, she feared her stepdaughter would delude herself to the point where she thought that she was doing God's will just as William Brereton had believed he was doing on that fateful day of her coronation. Like that madman, Mary might decide that the death of her father's children was a necessary evil.

"Madam, I will not stay here while you accuse my daughter of being capable of such evil," Henry barked, glaring at his wife for her unkind words.

"My lord, I just want-" Anne began, wanting to plead that if he insisted on punishing his defiant daughter to just make her Anne's lady-in-waiting if not simply sending her to someone who could be trusted to keep an eye on her.

She just wanted to keep her stepdaughter far away from the royal triplets who she had no reason to love and every reason to hate.

"I do not care what you want. Do not meddle in my affairs!" Henry snarled, storming out of the nursery.

Mary might be disobedient but she was a child, only a few months shy of her sixteenth birthday. Henry was certain that after a few months of being a maid in the household of his true heirs would convince Mary to relent and acknowledge the truth of his matter, finally shaking off her mother's influence.

While, it was understandable that Anne might be a little nervous about how Mary might treat her children, to accuse her stepdaughter of trying to harm her own flesh and blood was going too far.

Henry remembered how Lady Salisbury had requested accompanying Mary to Hatfield, wanting to say goodbye to the child she was the governess to for so long.

He had not wanted to agree to her request but now that Anne had dared to insult his oldest daughter-dared to scold him for putting their children in the care of their half-sister even though she must have known how it hurt him to humiliate Mary like this and that he had only done so because he refused to let anyone think that he would tolerate their children being insulted by Mary's instance that she was the true Princess of Wales and also his only legitimate daughter.

Perhaps he had given Anne too much free range with her tongue. It was bad enough when she had once made a scene, declaring she would rather die than acknowledge Katherine as her mistress and wishing that all Spaniards were dead at the bottom of the sea. Something that had not helped her reputation.

At least when Katherine had insulted Anne, she had the grace to do it in private not that it had stopped Henry from shouting at her when he learned that she had dared to call Anne an expensive whore.

But then again, Anne's words just minutes ago had been out of genuine fear not jealousy and spite. Perhaps he was being too hard on her. After all, not many children lived to their first birthday so it was understandable that she feared that tragedy would be on the cusp of her great victory.

That being said, he still would not allow anyone to be suspicious of his daughter, he would allow Margaret Pole to travel with Mary so she could say her goodbyes and when his daughter finally understood her place, Henry would welcome her back with open arms In time Anne would realize that her fears were fruitless as Mary would be a loving older sister to her half-siblings.

* * *

Deciding to give his wife some time to cool her temper, Henry waited until after supper to visit her in her rooms. Unfortunately because of Dr. Linacre's orders, he still had three months to go before he could join her in her bed again. By February, it would be almost a year since they had copulated and his resolve not to take a mistress continued to grow weaker.

However seeing her in her nightgown, reminded him why he had waited in the first place. By God, even though he was still upset with her, she still tempted him. With a wave of her hand, she sent her ladies out of her bedchamber before kneeling at Henry's feet with a surprisingly demure look on her face.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry for what I said about the Lady Mary. She is my stepdaughter as well as your daughter and my children's sister and I should find it my heart to be kind to her after all that has happened to her," Anne apologized before Henry could speak.

"Do you really mean that?" Henry asked, knowing full well that she could be just saying that to either soothe his anger at her or simply to make him feel better.

"Forgive me but I had a troubling nightmare the night before and it was in my mind when we were discussing our children," Anne explained. "I know barely anything about Lady Mary and all she knows of me is the rumors that she heard. Perhaps if I extend overtures of friendship, I can at least stop her from hating me."

After Henry had left her in nursery, she had gone to speak to her family. Of course her father made it clear that angering the king was perhaps the stupidest thing she could have done and that she was not to argue with him ever again. Her mother, on the other hand, was slightly more sympathetic, gently pointing out that Mary was just a girl who knew nothing of Anne but the fact that she was her father's new wife. Perhaps if she just reached out to the girl with kindness, she would soften towards her.

Henry smiled at his wife and took her hand in his, lifting her upwards before embracing her.

"I hope that one day, she will understand that my marriage to her mother was never a true one and once she accepts it, we can all be a family together," Henry remarked, kissing Anne's hand. "I just know that she will love her siblings, Anne. She had a good heart, I swear it."

"I may not trust her-not fully," Anne amended before he could protest. "But I trust you, my love and I want her to be a part of our family."

"Good. Now why didn't you tell me you had a nightmare?" Henry inquired, stroking her face. When he had shared their morning meal together, he had noticed that she looked a little weary but she had told him that she had simply not slept well, never mentioning that it was actually a nightmare that kept her up.

"I didn't want to upset you but I should have told you," Anne agreed, realizing that the argument would have been avoided if Henry had at least known where she was coming from.

"Perhaps tonight Dr. Linacre can give you a drought that will let you have a dreamless sleep," Henry suggested, deciding it would be best if he didn't ask her what exactly Mary had done in this nightmare of hers.

"All right. Will you lie with me until I fall asleep?" Anne asked, feeling slightly silly for asking such a childish question but she had a feeling that she would get a better night's sleep if she was in her husband's arms.

"I don't think the royal physician would mind if we shared your bed as long as we remained fully clothed," Henry replied, thinking that some kind of intimacy would do them good even if it wasn't as passionate as they would have liked.

* * *

_**December 13 1533** _

Her mother would turn forty-eight in three days. She would turn sixteen in two months and three days. She had not seen her mother in the past three years and her father in five years.

Her mother would celebrate her birthday alone while Mary was being forced to wait on her bastard siblings.

When she first learned what her father had planned for her, she had laughed, not truly believing that her once loving papa could be so cruel. But now as she sat in her carriage riding away from what had once been her home since she arrived in Wales, she realized that he was indeed forcing his true-born princess, the pearl of his world be a servant to half-royal bastards.

Mary did not blame her father-not completely. It was that witch, Anne Boleyn's fault. She had ensnared the king, using dark arts to cast a spell which twisted the mind of a good, pious and kind man.

It was because of that bitch that her father decided that after nearly two decades of a loving marriage to forsake his beloved wife and true queen. It was because of that harlot that her father suddenly believed that Mary was not fit to gain his throne and that he needed male heirs from a common bred whore.

Even if Anne Boleyn's brats were legitimate, they could never hope to be as royal as Mary. After all, she was the granddaughter of three monarchs in their own right and her paternal grandmother might not have been queen regent but she was a princess with more royal blood than her husband. Meanwhile Anne Boleyn might be the granddaughter of a duke but her father was born the son of a knight and he had nothing but merchant ancestors before that.

And yet, her father thought that Anne's brats were better suited for the throne than Mary. Clearly Anne had bewitched her father into thinking that, the same way she had convinced him to turn from the true faith, dragging him by the nose into heresy and now she had made him send Mary to Hatfield just because she refused to allow Anne's brat steal her title.

Mary made the cross sign as she winced at her own unkindness. Although she hated and would always hate their mother, it was unfair to blame three innocent children for something they had no control over.

Once Anne's spell was broken and the triplets were declared bastards, Mary would treat them with love and kindness, making sure they were never harmed by their mother's evil. When she arrived at Hatfield, she refused to take out her anger at what she was being forced to do on them and she would love them as she would to any other child of her father.

They were bastards and no one would ever be able to change Mary's mind and one day, she would have to take the throne back but she would never let any harm to come to them.

* * *

"Your Highness, we're here," Lady Salisbury informed her in a low voice. "I beg of you not to say anything until we are inside."

Mary's brow furrowed in confusion but something about the urgency in her former governess' face made her do as she was bid without question.

The minute she exited the plain carriage, she realized that something was wrong. They were to stop at Shrewsbury first before they continued their journey to Hatfield but the place, they were in was unrecognizable. They were in some sort of town that was next to the ocean.

Lady Margaret pressed her fingers to her lips as the footman helped her out. She placed her arm around Mary's shoulders, walking past the common people who had wanted to see who these noblewomen were.

Once inside the house, Mary and Margaret were greeted by Chapuys and Henry Pole.

"Did anyone suspect anything?" Pole asked his mother after bowing to Mary.

"No, the king's men believe we are to meet them at Shrewsbury as do the servants in Ludlow," Margaret replied, before smiling at Mary. "Besides Susan Clarencieux of course. She'll meet you on the boat, Your Highness."

Susan Clarencieux had been one of Mary's ladies and her closet companions while she still had her household. But the joy of getting Susan back did not make the Princess feel less confused or uneasy.

"Boat? I don't understand. What's going on?"

"Forgive me, Your Highness but I didn't want to worry you. Your mother and cousin have asked me to help you escape England," Chapuys half-lied, knowing that if he had told Mary what her mother truly thought of his plan, she would not leave. "The whore is plotting to kill you and we must get you out of here as fast as we can."

Mary's eyes widened in alarm. It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that surely her father would protect her but then again, he had not protected her from Anne's malice before and now that he had two sons, he would be even more blind to her faults.

As much as it hurt to know that she could no longer trust her papa, it also scared her to think that Anne could be so powerful that her mother wanted her to run away. She must truly be afraid if she was willing to take such a hasty step.

"But what of my mother? I cannot leave her here alone!" Mary cried, knowing that once her father learned that she had fled to Spain and was told that the Emperor was unwilling to let her return, there was no doubt that he would refuse to let any Imperial Ambassador especially Eustace Chapuys into England ever again which would mean her mother would have no way of communicating with Mary.

Not to mention what if the Boleyns chose to kill her once they learned that Mary was safely out of her reach. She might be a barren old woman but they could easily kill her out of spit.

"Your mother fears that she is too sick to live much longer. Her last wish is for you to go to Spain, marry the groom of my master's choosing and return to England to reclaim your throne," Chapuys lied, wincing inwardly at his own deception. He sent a silent apology to the queen in the More, praying that she would know that he had gone against her true wishes for her and Mary's own good.

Mary's eyes welled up in tears but she swallowed and stood straighter.

"Then I shall do as my mother wishes and hope that once we are reunited in heaven, I have made her proud," Mary said firmly.

"Well said, my princess."

Mary got on the boat as Lady Ursula Pole, pretending to be Margaret Pole's daughter who was traveling with her mother to visit her brother in Rome. By the time, anyone realized that she was gone, it would be too late and she would already be on here way to Spain.

As the ship sailed, Mary watched as Mill Bay got smaller and smaller. She couldn't help but think there was some symbolism in her making her escape by the same bay that her grandfather had landed in to take back the throne from King Richard III, starting the Tudor dynasty.

Although she still hoped that her father would come to his senses and forsake his false queen and heirs, she knew that someday would return to England with her own army and she would free England from heresy.

"I'm sorry, Papa, but this is for your own good," she whispered, trying to convince herself the truth of her words. "I have to do this. God wants me to do this."


	4. Bubbling Tensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary lands in Spain and is supported by her mother's family. Unfortunately things in England are not so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but exciting and emotional chapter.  
> Also I have switched the births of Charles de Valois Duke of Orleans and Maximilian of Austria so the age-gap between them and their brides-to-be will be a lot closer. So in this story Charles is born in 1527 and Maximilian is born in 1522.

 

**_December 19 1533_ **

****

“Villainous traitors!” King Henry bellowed when he learned that Chapuys and the Poles had managed to smuggle his disobedient daughter out of England.

 

When his daughter had not arrived at Shrewsbury, his men had traveled back to Ludlow only to be told that Lady Mary and Lady Salisbury had already departed. They spent days searching for the missing ladies, fearing they were captured by bandits or worse.

 

Then on a hunch, Cromwell sent his men to speak to the old governess’ children, only to find that her sons were no longer in the country with their servants being told that they were going to Rome to visit Cardinal Reginald Pole. Only Ursula Pole remained behind and considering her husband’s father was executed for treason, she quickly confessed to her mother’s meetings with the Spanish Ambassador who was also mysteriously missing. 

 

That led Cromwell to only one conclusion: Lady Mary had fled to Spain and would be used as puppet by the Emperor, used to either take control of England or to force the red-haired monarch to forsake Queen Anne and her children.

 

If it was the second one, it had backfired horribly as King Henry made a royal decree declaring Lady Mary Tudor and the entire Pole family traitors to England. And if that wasn’t enough to turn the English people against their former princess, the Boleyns and the Howards would make sure that every man and woman was aware that the only way Lady Mary would return to England was if she had a Spanish husband and army backing her. Not even those who were stanch Catholics would continue supporting the girl who would make them a province of Spain.

 

“Northampton, I want you to bring the Princess Dowager to court so she may answer for her daughter’s crimes,” Henry ordered, as he paced back and forth, looking like a caged wildcat, ready to tear someone limb from limb. “Cromwell tell Tyndale that I need him to write a pamphlet, condemning the Emperor for what is nothing less than an act of war.”  Nearly everyone in the room froze, shocked at the king’s declaration. Henry noted their reaction and chuckled mirthlessly. “Do you doubt that there will be war, my lords? The moment my daughter has a son by whatever husband her dratted cousin chooses for her, he will send his troops to England if not earlier.”

* * *

  ** _December 20 1533_ **

****

By the time, the Dowager Princess arrived at Greenwich, all of London had heard the news about her disgraced daughter and now they stood in the snowy streets hurling insults at the carriage that carried their once beloved queen.

 

“You hateful Spanish bitch, you have doomed us all!”  
  
  
“Your nephew will not take us! We will die before we accept a Spaniard on the throne!”

 

“Good Queen Anne was right. I wish that you and your traitorous brat were dead at the bottom of the sea!”

 

“You are nothing more than a liar and a whore! A deceitful foreigner just like the rest of your kin!” 

 

The last time Katherine ridden past the common folk, they had called blessings to her, swearing that they would never accept Anne Boleyn. She wondered how many of them were insulting her today.

 

Tears fell down her face as she recalled how much they had loved her even before she became queen when she was simply the new Princess of Wales. They had loved her for her bravery against the Scots. They loved her for begging the King to spare the anti-foreigner mob on that that evil Mayday.

 

How quickly they forgot her good deeds and now they turned against her for something she was indirectly responsible for.

 

When the Duke of Northampton called her to court, he refused to explain why, simply stating it had to do with Mary. It wasn’t until she arrived in London, did Katherine realize what was happening. She was able to put two and two together just by listening to the insults being thrown at her. The realization of what must have occurred nearly destroyed her, stabbing her heart just as like the daggers her once loving subjects spitting at her. 

 

Chapuys had betrayed her.

 

Against her wishes, Chapuys had smuggled Mary out of England and just as she had feared, England and Henry viewed this as treason. Her sweet naive daughter was too sheltered to realize just distrustful they were of foreigners and how fiercely they would protect their independence from what was essentially an invasion.

 

Even if the Holy Roman Emperor had enough troops to successfully launch an attack taking England for the Pope and Mary, she knew deep in her heart it would take at least a decade for England to trust her daughter again. And how much chaos and rebellions would happen in the meantime? Did Mary realize that in order to be Queen, she would have to kill her own father and half-siblings? Was she prepared to spill the blood of those who either saw her as a traitor or a puppet? 

 

“She is just a child,” Katherine sobbed. “She’s just a little girl who doesn’t know any better.”  
  
  
George Boleyn said nothing but his eyes were filled with pity as they rode down the London street.

* * *

Katherine wasn’t allowed to change out of her traveling clothes and instead she was escorted by Northampton and Wiltshire---who acted like guards escorting a criminal to face their judgement--- to the King’s private audience chamber where he and Anne were waiting for her.

 

Her former lady-in-waiting had lost her remaining pregnancy pounds and she was dressed splendidly wearing the royal jewels and small crown on her head. Her appearance was immaculate without a hair out of place. Not even her bitterest rival could call her ugly. While Anne’s expression was perfectly composed, her brown eyes were filled with anger but Katherine could detect a trace of fear in them.

 

Sitting in the throne adjacent to hers was Henry and unlike Anne, he did not bother to hide his fury, his lip curled in disgust and his eyes flashed dangerously. There was some irony in Chapuys fearing that the Boleyns would be her death when thanks to his actions, Henry could order her execution and the English people would celebrate the death of a traitor.

 

Terrified and broken, Katherine collapsed to her knees in front of the two thrones, looking more like a beggar woman, desperate for food than a queen pleading for mercy for her daughter.

 

“Your Majesty, forgive me. I told Chapuys no. I told him that neither Mary nor I would leave this country. He kept trying to convince me that La—I mean Queen Anne was going to poison Mary,” Katherine amended. Although it hurt her to refer Anne as Queen, she couldn’t risk making things worse. “He must have told her the same thing and lied to her that I wanted her to flee. She would not have done so otherwise. I beg of you to show our daughter mercy. She has no idea what trouble she has wrought.”  
  
  
“I think you are giving our daughter too little credit, Madam,” Henry snarled, gripping the armrests of his throne, wanting to throttle his former wife who had just much to do with turning Mary against him as that Spanish rat did. Furthermore, did she really think that just because she didn’t agree to Chapuys' plan it excused her from not informing the king, she swore to loyal to, of his treasonous words. “She knows her history. She knows what will have to happen when she returns to England to steal the crown from either my head or my son’s head. Good God, how could I sire such a child who is willing to kill her own flesh and blood?” 

  
  
“No, she wouldn’t. She won’t,” Katherine protested, fresh tears dripping down onto her hands.

 

“Christ’s wounds, Katherine, you are not an idiot!” Henry roared. “You know that she will sign the death warrant of my wife and all who support her. You can’t be so blind to think that Mary doesn’t know that she has declared war on the people she claims are her future subjects!”

 

“Have mercy,” Katherine cried, unable to keep the sobs in. “It’s not her fault. She’s just a child. Our daughter. Please have mercy!”  
  
  
  
Henry could not stand it anymore. His former wife was acting as though Mary was just an innocent victim. As though she had not chosen to be disobedient out of her own free will.

 

He jumped off his throne and sized Katherine by the shoulders lifting her up and forcing her to look at him.

 

“YOU WANT MERCY! YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU INCITED YOUR NEPHEW AND OUR DAUGHTER TO DROWN ENGLAND IN BLOOD! BEFORE YOU MADE A NUISANCE OF YOURSELF BY NOT SUBMITTING TO MY WILL AND LETTING ME HAVE MY ANNULMENT! BEFORE YOU TURNED MARY AGAINST ME! BEFORE YOU FAILED TO WARN ME ABOUT EUSTACE CHAPUYS’ PLOT! EVERY DEATH IN THIS WAR WILL BE ON YOUR CONSCIENCE!” Henry bellowed, shaking her like a rag doll. “BOTH YOU AND YOUR DAUGHTER DESERVE TO BE EXECUTED---"

  
“STOP IT!” Anne shouted, grabbing Henry’s arm, forcing him to let go of Katherine who fell to the floor, still sobbing hysterically. Anne dropped to her knees, embracing the quivering mess that was once a regal queen.

 

Henry could not help but feel ashamed by his actions. Katherine was an old woman, her body frail and sickly. She was clearly devastated by what happened and his threats had only made it worse.

However, he would not apologize. Katherine had knowledge of what Chapuys was going to do and because of her silence, Mary was now in Spain to be used as the Holy Roman Emperor’s puppet.  
  
Still fuming, the red-haired monarch left the room, leaving Anne to comfort her once hated rival.

 

“Please don’t kill her,” Katherine pleaded, burying her face in Anne’s dress, grateful for the comfort and empathy the younger woman was giving her.

 

“Shhh, he’s just angry and hurt but he’ll come around. He loves Mary and I know that he won’t kill her,” Anne said soothingly, praying that she wasn’t wrong.

 

To think that almost a month ago Henry had scolded her for daring to suggest that Mary might harm her half-siblings. When he told her that her stepdaughter had fled to Spain, he said that perhaps that nightmare she had was a warning from God that Mary would betray her family.

The nightmare of Mary burning her alive flicked her in her mind but she determinedly shut it out. The girl wasn’t evil, just stubborn and perhaps misguided. And yet, at the same time, her motives were irrelevant for she was fighting alongside England’s enemies.

However that didn’t mean she had to die. Just maybe after all this fighting was done, Henry would allow his daughter to live, send her to convent to spend the rest of days as nun.

For now, the two former rivals just held each other. Both of them were terrified for their children and each blaming themselves instead of the other for travesty that was soon to come.

* * *

Hours later, Anne ordered her maids to bring Katherine to a set of rooms, loaning the woman two of her ladies-in-waiting. When she returned to her own apartment, King Henry was waiting for her.

 

“Anne, I wanted to apologize,” Henry began.

 

“It’s not me who you should be apologizing to,” Anne snapped, angry on Katherine’s behalf. While she was not a stranger to Henry’s outburst, it horrified her to see him actually physically grab and shake Katherine like that. She had been half-afraid that her would kill his former wife right then and there.

 

“Of all people, I would except you to understand why I’m angry at her! Because she never had the decency to report Chapuys’ plan to us, Mary is on her way to Spain where she will be married off and have a dozen Spanish sons to try and destroy our dynasty,” Henry explained, trying to stamp down the rush of irritation he felt towards Anne. He could understand how she might feel he was being too harsh but she needed to see things logically like he did.

 

“Will you kill them?” Anne demanded.

 

“What?” Henry’s brow furrowed in confusion, wondering if she meant Mary and Katherine.

 

“Your daughter and any grandchild she might have,” Anne elaborated. “Will you kill them?”

 

“What would you have me do? Give her another chance to kill you and our children?” Henry asked. He wasn’t sure if Mary would kill him if he refused to surrender but in his heart, he doubted Anne, Henry, Geoffroy and Elizabeth would be so lucky.

 

“My grandfather fought against your father because he believed he was doing what’s right but when he was wrong, he fought just as hard to preserve your crown,” Anne pointed out. “Maybe just maybe, when all this is over, she will be content to live her life in peace, away from England.”

 

“God willing,” Henry muttered, sitting down on her bed, looking somber. “Do you think it’s easy for me to know that I must turn on my own daughter, my pearl? But just as I did before, I must do it for the sanctuary of our kingdom.”

 

Anne walked over and threw her arms around his neck, stroking his hair.

 

“I’m sorry, Henry,” Anne whispered.

 

Once again, someone cried against her dress, devastated at being separated from their daughter, this time for good.

 

Anne Boleyn was not a woman who often felt guilty but after holding two devastated parents in her arms, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been better if she had never caught the king’s eyes.

 

Her family would quickly point out if it hadn’t been her, it would have been another lady who was not so eager to become a mistress and Anne did not spend years of being blamed for Henry’s actions to suddenly start agreeing with those fools.

 

However, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had been less aggressive, less dismissive of that poor princess who was downgraded to a bastard, then maybe they would not be in the bad situation they were in now.

* * *

  ** _January 7 1534_ **

****

Nineteen days after she learned of her daughter’s escape to Spain, Katherine of Aragon died in her sleep.

 

“She died of a broken heart,” one courtier observed sadly. “Betrayed first by her lady-in-waiting and by her husband, then by her daughter. Her heart could not take any more pain.” 

 

“She died of guilt is more like it,” another snapped. “They say that there was a black growth around her heart, a sign of her sin.”  
  
  
  
Anne could not help but grimace when she heard that particular statement. If a black growth had been found around Katherine’s heart a year ago, she had no doubt that she or her family would be accused of poisoning her rival or using witchcraft to kill her. However, the fact that Mary was more of a danger than a barren woman pushing fifty and the fact that she had two healthy sons was probably one of the reasons why she was not being blamed.

 

Now because people blamed Katherine for the upcoming war, they called the pious woman a sinner and liar. Some even claimed that because she showed her true colors as a traitor the country she had once pledged to treat as her own, nothing she said should ever be trusted even her claims of her marriage with the King’s late brother being unconsummated.

 

As a woman, who had her reputation dragged in the mud so often, Anne felt nothing but pity for her former rival. Hopefully, eventually the people would stop being angry and remember Katherine as the former queen they once loved.

 

At least Henry, despite still blaming her for her failure to report Chapuys, had decreed that the entire court was in mourning for the Princess Dowager, his beloved sister-in-law.

 

In a way, Anne thought it was a good thing that Katherine had died now, ending her suffering and she would be around to have see what would happen next.

 

In fear that Mary might still have supporters, Henry had decided that all of his subjects might sign the oath of supremacy, recognizing Anne and her children his true heirs instead of his illegitimate daughter and him as the head of the English Church. Those who did not sign would die as traitors.

 

It seemed that everyone was anticipating a war and Anne could feel the apprehension with every passing day.  Sometimes she would see Henry staring outside the window at the ocean as though he was expecting to see the Spanish Armada appear in their water at this very moment.

 

The only bright spot was when Elizabeth was declared the Princess Royal and the Duchess of Calais, making it clear that despite her sex, she was just as important as her brothers. Harry, Geoffrey and Elizabeth were growing and thriving, blissfully unaware of the danger their half-sister was to them.

Anne had a promise to Katherine over a fortnight ago that she would plead on Mary’s behalf and she refused to stir up hatred for the fallen princess. But it wouldn’t matter if her stepdaughter won for she would not be granted the same mercy.

Katherine of Aragon was now in heaven, enjoying her eternal rest while the rest of them went on to face an uncertain future.

* * *

  ** _February 10 1534_ **

**_Spain_ **

****

Princess Mary knew little of what was happening in England. The only information they could gather was from her relatives in France and Portugal who would send letters to the Emperor about the information they received from their ambassadors.

 

Her father refused to see any representative sent from the Emperor’s court. He said that he would not accept any Spaniard on his shores unless they brought his daughter back to England.

 

Mary shivered as she wondered what her father would do if she were to return to her homeland without an army supporting her. She wanted to believe that her beloved Papa would welcome her with open arms, telling her he was sorry for what he had done to her and he wanted them to be a family again. However, she was not that naive.

 

Anne Boleyn’s spell was strong and she had forced King Henry to declare his daughter a traitor to England while he loaded her bastard half-sister with titles. He was forcing good Englishmen to go against the conscious and sign an oath of lies. There were also rumors that he had started to close monasteries and sell off church land.

 

 And now the worst news of all came, her mother was dead.

 

Her cousin was in the Netherlands when Mary got the news so she did not get to speak with him until sometime later when he returned to Spain.

 

“The witch killed her. I knew she would,” Mary sobbed, unable to keep the devastation she felt at her mother’s death at bay. “We have to avenge her. The Boleyns and Cromwell are destroying England with their heresy and we must save my father before it’s too late.”

 

“Mary.” Charles’ voice was gentle but firm. “Your father is too far gone. If we act, we must act against him as well.” 

 

“No, he can still be saved. He grieved my mother in the end,” Mary pointed, a small smirk on her face as she was sure that it must have galled Anne Boleyn when King Henry had forced her to wear black instead of yellow. It must have angered her to know that despite her witchcraft King Henry still loved his true wife and was sad that she was dead. It gave Mary hope that her father was coming around. That just maybe the bitch’s spell was weakening and a good Catholic woman would break it.

 

Once the spell was broken, King Henry would send the Boleyn witch and all those who conspired with her to be burned at the stake like the heretics they were. He would send letters to Mary to come home, begging for her forgiveness.  
  
When she returned to England, she would be greeted by her father, her new stepmother and her half-siblings now called by their rightful titles. She would recognize her father’s new wife and any child she bared as legitimate.

 

Although she loathed to find something good about her mother’s untimely death at least hope was born from tragedy.

 

Charles, on the other hand, saw the matter differently. King Henry had called Queen Katherine his sister-in-law and buried her with her false title of the Dowager Princess of Wales.

 

His actions after Queen Katherine’s death made it clear that he had no intention of stopping his actions let alone did he feel any remorse for them. Not to mention, he was making plans to join the Schmalkaldic League, further ingraining himself with those Lutheran Heretics.

  
As much as hurt him to break his poor cousin’s heart, he knew he must do so.

 

“Sweet child, he has commissioned the heretic William Tyndale to write a pamphlet condemning you as traitor, saying that you will drown England in blood and be nothing more than a mouthpiece for me,” Charles told her. “Your father is turning your people against you. If we wait too long, you might be seen as an enemy."

 

Mary fell forward and Charles caught her, hugging her close and rubbing her back, his heart breaking for this poor motherless girl. He swore that he would kill King Henry himself for causing so much to his aunt and cousin.

 

“No. They won’t. They love me and my mother. Oh God, I have left England to be ruined,” Mary gasped, suddenly realizing that with her mother and Bishop Fisher dead, Sir Thomas More was the only person in England brave enough to speak the truth.

 

“Your country can be saved. You are the true Queen of England and you will bring your country back to the true faith. Hard choices will be made and blood will be spilled but England will come back twice as strong because of it,” the Emperor assured her, unable to keep the fatherly pride out of his voice. She had been through so much and yet like her mother, she was strong. “You are the granddaughter of Queen Isabella and like her you will take your crown from those who dared usurped it from you.”

 

Despite what many might think, Charles had no wish to make his little cousin a mouthpiece or a puppet. Of course he will guide her, she is a woman, burdened by her sex youth and all the hardships she has suffered but when she returns to England, she will be a woman past her teenaged years with a husband and God willing a son. And when that happened, he will leave her be, only continue being her ally and friend whenever she needed him.

 

_Your daughter is safe with me, dear aunt, I shall not use her or betray her._

“Thank you, cousin, you are too kind to me as is your wife. I am happy to be among family even though I am homesick,” Mary said as she managed to regain her composure, feeling slightly silly for losing herself to hysterics like that.

 

“Speaking of family, I think it’s high time for you to meet your future husband, my nephew Maximilian,” Charles told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her out of the room. “Will you join us in the gardens in an hour?”

 

“I shall be delighted,” Mary replied, her sadness replaced with excitement at finally meeting her betrothed.

 

While it was true he was six-years-younger than her which meant that they would have to wait at least three years before they could be wed, it still pleased her that her mother’s hope that she would marry into the Hapsburg family would come to pass.

 

Once Maximilian was old enough, they could have many blessed children, boys and girls, proving to England that the whore’s lies about her blood being cursed were false and God had not forsaken her.

* * *

After washing her tear stained face and putting on a jeweled cross which belonged to her mother and was given to her as fourteenth birthday present, she was escorted into the gardens where Charles, Isabella, their two children, Ferdinand, his wife and their son were waiting for her.

 

“Brother, you were right, she truly is the spitting image of our lovely aunt,” Ferdinand complimented her as he kissed her hand. “I am truly sorry about your loss, my princess.”

 

“Thank you, cousin, your words lightened my heavy heart,” Mary said, managing to smile at her charming cousin.

 

“Please allow me to introduce to you, my wife Anna and my son, Maximillian,” he introduced causing his wife to curtsy and his son to bow.

 

Maximilian was not yet twelve but already he resembled his handsome father. He stepped up to her and presented a bouquet of wildflowers.

 

“For you, my princess,” he told her, looking slightly terrified.

 

Mary could not help but giggle at his adorableness and she eagerly took the flowers from him. She pressed them to her chest before she kissed his cheek in thanks causing the archduke to go red in embarrassment.

 

Maximilian then went off to play with his younger cousins while their fathers talked about how Hungry was faring against the Ottoman assault.  
  
Empress Isabella and Archduchess Anna insisted Mary walk with them as they chatted about her upcoming birthday celebrations.

War was on the horizon but for the first time in years, Mary felt safe and secure, surrounded by her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, I was not nice to Katherine in this story but it was to show that while England are the good guys, they are not nice or fair to those they view as traitors. It was also get Anne to feel some empathy towards Katherine and Mary. Henry's pissed but he's at least not celebrating her death as he did in history.  
> Like I said in my first author's note, Mary's gonna be the "bad guy" but she is going to get a happy life with a husband who worships the ground she walks on and when she does meet up with her father, it won't go as badly as Henry fears it will.


	5. Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years later, Anne and Henry prepare for what is coming. King John of Portugal worries that England is not the only country Emperor Charles is planning on taking. Francis and Eleanor argue over his continued support of her brother's enemies. Mary gets a tongue-lashing and has moment of weakens that could have devastating consequences. Anne comes face to face with a new enemy.

**_February 3 1536_ **

 

“How long will this stalemate last?” Anne wondered as she gazed outside the window, looking out at the Thames as though she expected to see the Spanish Armada appear in the river that ran through London even though the river was not wide enough to accommodate such a massive fleet. “It has been three years since the Lady Mary fled and yet nothing has happened.” 

 

“I think they are waiting until her husband is old enough to get her pregnant,” her father informed her with a scowl. “When she has a son, the Emperor will declare war.” 

 

“Why should we wait for him? France and the Schmalkaldic League have already chosen to side with us,” Anne pointed out. “Should we not attack the Holy Roman Empire before they incite Portugal and Scotland to shed their neutral mindset?”  
  
  
When Pope Paul had excommunicated Henry, the Emperor had sent money and mercenaries to Ireland in hopes that the Irish Earls would do his dirty work. Unfortunately for their enemies, the English troops had overpowered them and Henry had now declared himself King of England, Wales and Ireland.

 

Scotland and Portugal were staunchly Catholic and they were not so willing to team up with Lutherans as the French were. Not to mention King John of Portugal had family ties to the Emperor. And Scotland had shown before that their family ties to the Tudors would not stop them from attacking England.

 

“King John is almost fanatically Catholic, Anne, if he wanted to turn on us, he would have done so years ago,” Thomas pointed out logically. “As for Scotland, they have a centuries old treaty with France so as long as King Francis remains our ally, King James has no reason to attack us.”

 

“No reason but Rome,” Anne scoffed.

 

Thomas Boleyn sighed, knowing that Anne had a point. Despite calling upon good English Catholics to remove the heretical King, the Pope had not pressured Europe’s Catholic monarchs into invading England but if he did, France might not be so willing to continue supporting the Schmalkaldic League, removing a powerful ally from their cause.

 

But then again, the English Catholics had ignored the Pope’s call for action so perhaps France would do the same. After all the country were filled to the brim with papists and the only reason France was willing to side with heretics was out of wishing to bring about the defeat of his enemy.

 

Speaking of the English people, it was rumored that the Pope was in favor of the exiled former Princess of Wales using her cousin’s army to invade England and that was something that made many Catholic men shed the Papist views, turning to the reformed faith instead.

 

Even those who stayed staunchly Catholic made it clear that they would not accept a foreign king whose uncle had invaded their land.

 

“That Spaniard might think he has God on his side but we all know he does not,” Thomas snarled before he added in a softer voice. “Your sons are growing stronger by the day. They are bright and vigorous princes and you should be very proud of them, Anne.”

 

“Good God, Father, are you not aware that you have a granddaughter? I would think her status of Princess Royal would make her less forgettable,” Anne snapped, angered by what she viewed as callousness on her father’s part.

 

Her daughter was one of the three miracles who had been on that fateful September day. And while Harry and Geoffrey were certainly boys that she was quite proud of, her sweet Elizabeth was no less clever and lively as her brothers. 

 

“I would be more impressed if she becomes the Queen of France,” Thomas remarked with a wry smile. Anne made a disgusted noise. “That was a jest, Anne, you know I love my granddaughter. But we would not be in such a good position if she was the only one born that September.”  

 

Anne sighed. She could not argue with that. Although she wanted to believe that giving birth to only a princess would not be disaster, she knew that even if Henry didn’t see a second daughter as a failure, her enemies certainly would.

 

The King of France despite his promises would not have been so eager to marry Elizabeth to one of his sons. The English people would not have accepted Elizabeth over Mary even if she chose to flee to Spain.

 

It was only thanks to Elizabeth’s brothers that she was loved as Henry’s trueborn daughter and had the former Princess of Wales not betrayed her country, she would have probably been forgotten just like her mother.

 

Thinking of the Princess Dowager made Anne pause as she knew she had made a promise to her former rival. A promise, she found herself growing less sure she could keep with every passing day as the anticipation for the war made her terrified for the lives of her loved ones.

 

“Anne, I beg of you to stop thinking about such unpleasantries. It will do you no good and those thoughts could bring harm to the littlest duke,” Thomas told her, glancing downwards to her swollen belly.

 

Once Henry returned to Anne’s bed, he had not spent a night out of it. However, it had taken her some time to fall pregnant again. The doctor and the midwife both agreed that her body had simply needed time to heal and while it was slightly disappointing, they determined that only one child would be born in June.

 

The Tudor triplets were overjoyed when they learned they were to have another sibling and the entire court celebrated the joyous news. It would not matter if she had another son or daughter as long as the baby was healthy. After all, four living children was more than the Dowager Princess had ever accomplished. Not even the delusional Lady Mary could deny that.

 

Her father was right. She should not focus on the bad things she feared would happen. Instead she should work on being a good and loving queen, cultivating the people’s love and loyalty for her children.

* * *

Meanwhile King Henry was reviewing the reports from his ambassadors. Emperor Charles had been supplying the Catholic Princes of Germany with men and money, hoping to counteract the Schmalkaldic League’s attempts to take over the remaining Catholic provinces.  

 

John Frederick, the Elector of Saxony and Philip, Landgrave of Hesse had already been joined by the Albert, the Duke of Prussia and John Albert, Duke of Mecklenburg But they still were a long way from freeing Germany from the Emperor’s control.

 

The English ambassador in Denmark had reported that with the Count's Feud was over, King Christian had assured his allies that he was ready and able join the ongoing fight against their enemies. He also suggested his daughter, Princess Anna as a potential bride for the Prince of Wales.

 

His ambassador from France wrote that there was religious tension in France due to the “Affair of the Placards” where Anti-Catholic posters were distributed throughout Paris and one was even nailed to the bedchamber door of King Francis. It was understandable who unnerving that was and King Henry could not blame his French counterpart for being angry at what was perceived as an attack on his person. However, King Francis, perhaps knowing it would not sit well with his allies, only punished the men who were directly involved with the incident.

 

The news from Portugal was intriguing. Queen Catherine had died two years ago and there were rumors that he was looking towards Germany for a new bride. Apparently, he had chosen Anna of Cleves whose father was known to be Lutheran sympathizer. According to Sir William Howard, the young Queen of Portugal was not much to look at and could not speak a word of English but she was a kind and gracious woman whose husband and stepchildren adored her.  Perhaps she could melt her radical husband’s heart and stop this Inquisition nonsense.

 

William Howard's younger brother, the ambassador of Scotland, Thomas Howard wrote that King James of Scots was seeking the French Princess’s hand in marriage. According to the Dowager Queen Margaret, King Francis had refused to agree to giving his daughter up unless King James helped him in defeating the Holy Roman Emperor.

 

But the most interesting report came from Sweden. According to a spy in the Swedish court, King Gustav wanted to have a summit between the leaders and supporters of the Schmalkaldic League.

 

“What do you think he’s up to?” Henry wondered aloud.

 

“Much like your father, King Gustav won his crown through conquest so he is aware that a newly independent country will need a strong ruler to guide it. I have heard it said that when he learned that the Schmalkaldic League’s main goal was to free themselves from the Emperor’s shackles, he asked: ‘and who shall lead them?’ Unless I miss my guess, Your Majesty, I believe he wishes to hash out what will happen after we defeat the Emperor just so there will be no squabbling afterwards,” Cromwell explained after thinking on it for a few minutes.

 

“Prudent of him,” Henry said approvingly. “Well I shall wait until he has made a formal invitation before discussing this with my councilors.”

 

With that done, the red-haired monarch decided to rejoin his courtiers who were being hosted by his lovely wife. But before he could make his way towards her, he saw the Duke of Suffolk out of the corner of his eyes and went over to greet his friend. 

 

“Charles, it was been too long,” he greeted the man with a clap on the back.

 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but my estates have been keeping me occupied,” Charles explained.

 

“As has your wife and your newborn son, I expect,” Henry laughed. He then grimaced as he recalled that the months old Earl of Lincoln was probably named after his deceased half-brother, Henry’s own nephew.

 

Charles stiffened, sensing his friend’s thoughts. Not wanting to dwell on his dead son or dead wife for that matter, he quickly changed the topic to a happier subject.

 

“I was happy to learn that the Queen has fallen pregnant again. I hope you both received my congratulations,” Charles remarked, glancing at Queen Anne who happily chatting away with her brother.

 

Although Charles would never claim to be a friend of the Boleyns. He had heard of how Queen Anne had intervened when it looked as though King Henry might strangle the Dowager Princess, protecting her from Henry’s wrath. As much as Charles was loathe to admit it Anne had shown compassion towards Katherine of Aragon during the end of her days when most people would have just let her rot, either out of disgust or fear that the King might think they were siding with the disgraced lady.

 

Besides for whatever pity Charles had for Princess Mary, siding with her would mean siding against England and against his childhood friend. His father had died protecting the late King Henry during the battle of Bosworth Field and if it came down to it, Charles would do the same for the current King Henry.

 

“She is beautiful, isn’t she? Look at her: she is glowing,” Henry gushed, staring at Anne dreamily. Three years had not done anything to diminish his devotion to her. There were arguments, of course as they were far too similar not to clash. However, Henry had remained faithful, never once forsaking her bed for another. He barely heard Charles’ response, excusing himself so he could walk over to his wife and brother-in-law.

 

“Mary has named her Anne, after you of course,” George was saying before spotting Henry and quickly greeting him with a bow.

 

“My love,” Anne murmured as Henry sat beside her, kissing her hand.

 

“Your Grace, please do not stop on my account. Tell me, how is my dear sister-in-law?” Henry inquired. “I hope she will soon come back to court.”

 

Before learning of Mary’s secret marriage to William Stafford, Henry had decided to give her Margaret Pole’s old title the Countess of Salisbury, allowing her son Henry Carey to be the Baron Montagu.

  
When Mary confessed to Anne that she had married a common solider William Stafford, she was banished from the court and Henry had half a mind to strip her of her title. Despite her own anger at her sister's actions, Anne had begged him not to, reminding her husband that when he banished the Duke of Suffolk for daring to marry his sister, he had not taken away his friend’s dukedom, forcing his sister to live a life of poverty.

 

Moved by the mention of his sweet sister, Henry agreed, deciding that while Stafford would have no claim to his wife’s title or lands, he would knight the man so he would be of the same rank as Mary’s former husband.

 

Although Mary had not been invited back to court (Anne had admitted to him privately that her sister actually preferred the country), she remained in favor with the royal family.

 

“She is well, Your Majesty. She has delivered her daughter Anne just a fortnight ago,” George explained.

 

“I was thinking, Henry, perhaps she could come back to court for when I go into confinement. She was a comfort when I brought Harry, Geoff and Beth into the world,” Anne recalled, a fond smile on her face.

 

“If that would make you happy, sweetheart, then I shall summon her to court. Perhaps I will extend that invitation to her children so they may meet their cousins,” Henry decided, squeezing Anne’s hand and rubbing her belly. “When her daughter is older, she can become Elizabeth’s companion. Perhaps her boy Edward can be a companion to Henry and Geoffrey as the Earl of Ormond is.”

 

“Well I certainly hope Hatfield won’t become overcrowded,” Anne laughed as she laid her hand on Henry’s as they both started daydreaming of the child inside her.

  
Sensing that they were having a moment and guessing they wouldn’t even notice his absence let alone take offense to it, George quickly slipped away.

 

“Are you happy, my dearest Anne?” Henry asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

 

“Most happy,” Anne quoted as she kissed Henry’s fingers.

* * *

  **_February 18 1536_ **

**_Spain_ **

****

Today was Mary’s birthday. She was now twenty-years-old. She was no longer a child or a teenager but a woman grown.

 

She had hoped her father would send her something---a gift, a letter, a note---acknowledging her birthday, confirming that he still loved her and was thinking about her even though they had not seen each other for eight years.

 

But he had not sent anything last year or the year before that. She had written him countless letters but every messenger was turned away as her father refused to even look at them, saying that unless she was willing to give up her birthright and apologize for her treasonous actions, he would have nothing to do with her.

 

This was the whore’s doing, Mary just knew it. The Boleyn witch’s power grew stronger every passing day.

 

“What is His Imperial Majesty waiting for? Why does he delay invading England and destroying Anne Boleyn once and for all!” Mary exclaimed hysterically, her desperation was palpable on her face.

 

“Patience is a virtue,” Anna of Hungry pointed out with a frown, giving the younger girl a stern look. “And I would think a Princess of Wales would act a little more grateful for all my husband’s brother is doing for you.”

  
  
“Anna, please, have some compassion,” Empress Isabella said sweetly, gently stroking Mary’s arm. “I understand your frustration, sweet child but Charles is defending himself from the Ottoman Empire as well as Germany. His army is spread too thin but I guarantee once he curbs those loathsome heretics, he will be ready to take back your country.”  
  
  
“But the longer the Emperor waits the worse the witch’s influence will become,” Mary said, making the cross sign as she prayed for mercy on her father’s soul.

 

“Christ’s wounds, my son is married to a delusional fool! Your father’s concubine is many things but she is no witch. Stop acting as though your father is an innocent victim,” Anna snarled, angered by Mary’s continued belief that King Henry had done nothing wrong.

 

Mary gaped at the older woman, shocked at her gall.

 

 “Anna,” Isabella hissed, grabbing her sister-in-law’s arm but the other woman shook it off and continued to yell.

 

“No, you and Charles are far too soft on this girl. Your father was always a stubborn and arrogant man even before Anne Boleyn walked into his life. He was already insulting your mother and trying to push his bastard son as the next king before that whore showed up. She seduced him and pushed her heretical agenda but I doubt your father would have listened if Pope Clement had given him an annulment. Your father is the enemy and he believes that you are a bastard compared to his sons,” Anna ranted. “The lady could drop dead tomorrow and he would still call you a traitor to England and your half-brothers are his true heirs.”

 

Mary felt angry tears welling up in her eyes. “He’s my father. How can I think of my father as an enemy!” she demanded.

 

At once Anna softened and she let out a heavy sigh. “In July, my son will be old enough to share your bed for the first time. If you give England a true Prince of Wales, maybe then your father will come around.”

 

Her tone was doubtful but Mary was glad she said it all the same.

 

She would not give up the hope that one day she could reconcile with her beloved Papa. He might be angry with her but he still loved his pearl deep down. He would be pleased if she named his grandson after him.

 

The true Prince Henry of Wales who would have far more royal blood than his bastard half-uncle.

* * *

  ** _February 21 1536_ **

**_Portugal_ **

****

“His Excellency does not like me very much,” Anna observed, her broken Portuguese was colored by her thick German accent. John had decided to allow her to receive the Spanish Ambassador with him. Despite his outward politeness, it was clear that the Spanish ambassador was weary of the new Queen of Portugal.  

 

“He thinks you are influencing me,” John informed her with a grimace. His cousin might be married to his beloved sister but that did not give him the right to control what John did.

 

“Has he confused me with the Lady Boleyn?” Anna wondered, looking bemused. “Perhaps it is because I have replaced a Queen Catherine.”

 

For the first time since she had known him, King John actually chuckled, a smile lighting up his face before his expression returned to it's normally sober state. 

 

“He thinks you will convince me to turn to hearsay which is ludicrous because you have converted to Catholicism and you have not once mentioned religion to me other than to plead for lighter sentences for those who have committed such crimes,” John recalled, unfortunately the Inquisition was created to eradicate heresy and lighter sentences were simply not an option.

 

“I am your wife and I am honor bound to follow your lead,” Anna declared, keeping her face neutral.

 

Her motto was “God send me the will to keep” and she that for all her husband’s kindness it would vanish in an instance if he were to find any trace of Lutheran objects in her chambers.

 

 “Regardless of our views on religion, I can’t help but wonder if King Henry had a point when he declared my aunt’s womb cursed. Do you realize that none of Emperor Charles’ sisters’ sons lived to adulthood? Perhaps there is a curse on his family,” John suggested, ignoring the fact that Charles’ mother and his mother were sisters.

 

“Husband,” Anna whispered, not sure where he was going with this.

 

“I have three sons, Anna and I am not sure if any of them will live past their childhood,” John continued, staring out the window, his hands clenched and his shoulders hunched. “My sweet Maria is sickly too but she is stronger than her brothers. And yet I fear for her as well. My living brothers are cardinals so if my children die, they will not be able to continue our dynasty. And after they are gone, who do you think will declare himself King of Portugal: my sister’s son who will no doubt be the Holy Roman Emperor as well as the King of Spain.”

 

“Do not speak like that. I could not bear the thought of losing such sweet children,” Anna murmured, getting up from her char and tenderly touching her husband’s arm.

 

“Don’t you see, Anna, that’s why Charles is so angry about me marrying you. He knows that you will give me a healthy son who will outlive his half-brothers, denying him the chance to take my country for himself,” John ranted.

 

“Do you really think he is so ambitious that he would deny you a chance to secure your dynasty?” Anna asked in surprise.  

 

“Look at what he’s plotting for England. Using our cousin as an excuse to invade and control her country,” John pointed out. “Mark my words, Anna, I shall not join with those heretics as France has done but if Emperor Charles thinks he or his son will take Portugal, they have another thing coming.”

 

“I promise you that as long as I draw breath, I shall do as I must for Maria, Manual, Feilipe and Denis,” Anna assured them.

 

Her stepchildren had been so kind to her despite the language barrier. She adored them especially little Denis who was no more than a babe. She would not fail them.

  
“And our children,” John reminded her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “We shall have strong boys of our own, God willing.” He turned to look at her, a soft look on his usually grim face.

* * *

  ** _France_ **

****

“What is the matter with you?” Eleanor demanded as she burst into his chambers.

 

“Are you speaking to me, wife?” Frances asked in bewilderment and outrage. Although calling his and Eleanor’s marriage unhappy and turbulent would be an understatement, Eleanor usually acted with decorum and dignity her position called for.

 

“What were you thinking making that stipulation to the King of Scots? Do you not want your daughter to be queen?” Eleanor interrogated him, not even acknowledging his words, although her tone was a touch softer.

 

“Let me make something very clear to you, Eleanor, I know you believe that you are morally superior. However I am your King and your husband. You do NOT get to speak to me like that, making demands. Furthermore, I could very easily have you charged with treason for all that spying we both know you are doing for your brother. If you continue to act this way, I will have no choice to send you away from court until you start acting like a queen,” Francis growled through gritted teeth. He was loath to threaten any lady but his wife was pushing him too far.

 

“I apologize, husband, I just fear that the Lutherans are corrupting your mind,” Eleanor explained, a little bit shaken by Francis’ threats. Although she doubted he would ever charge her with treason nor would he ever order for her to be executed or imprisoned. However, she had no doubt he would call her letters treasonous and use it to either exile her or force her to live in a nunnery. He would cut off all communication between her and her stepchildren who she loved as her own. A long time ago, she had to leave her precious daughter behind and she refused to be separated from the children she loved ever again.

 

“Madam, I am Catholic. I am a servant of the Pope’s. However, I have been fighting the Holy Roman Empire since before either your brother and I become monarchs; I would do anything to defeat him,” Francis said firmly, his eyes narrowed as he silently dared her to remonstrate with him for choosing to ally with heretics. “Besides as misguiding as these heathens are, some of them are still noble men whose troops never sacked the Holy City of Rome.”

“Charles never ordered his troops---” Eleanor protested weakly.

 

“That is not the point. The Pope, Scotland and Portugal have not involved themselves in other countries' politics. However your brother insists on meddling in other people’s affairs, using force might I add. His head is so swollen that it rivals the moon,” Francis ranted. “Once he has control of England, he will not stop there. He will continue until he has all of Europe under his thumb.”  
  
  
“You are exaggerating,” Eleanor objected, unable to hold her tongue when Francis continued to insult her brother. “And don’t pretend you are just an innocent victim in your spats with my brother. You have done your share of provoking.”  
  
  
“True but I never locked up his sons,” Francis snarled, thinking of how his eldest son’s health had not fully recovered from his time in Madrid.

 

“You would have if you had a chance,” Eleanor pointed out.

 

“Good God, woman, you give me a headache. Just get out and don’t bother me about your brother again,” Francis snapped, turning his back on her. But as Eleanor was about to leave, he called after her. “You are right, I don’t want Madeline to become King James’s wife because I fear that her health will not survive the coldness of Scotland and I do not want to lose her.”

 

Queen Eleanor let out a heavy sigh, realizing that no matter how brash her husband acted, he was still a loving father. She knew if King James agreed to this ridiculous proposal, Francis would be too honorable not to hold up his end of the bargain. It hadn’t occurred to her that Francis wanted the opposite to happen so he could hold on to his precious daughter.

 

“I understand, husband,” Eleanor whispered meekly. “Forgive me for doubting your motives.” **  
**

* * *

**_February 24 1536_ **

****

It had been many days since her argument with her mother-in-law. The memory of Anna’s cruel words still echoed in Mary’s mind. Even her lady of the bedchamber and former governess agreed that while Anne was influential, King Henry had made the decision to turn to hearsay out of his own free will and the birth of two sons ensured that he would not change his mind.

 

Mary refused to believe that. She couldn’t believe it. Her father was a pious and loving man until Anne Boleyn bewitched him. This was all her fault. If she died, all of this violence could be avoided.

 

As loath Mary was to wish the death of another, she did pray that Anne Boleyn would die, believing that with the witch dead and her spell broken, her father would turn against that heretical league hellbent on destroying the Holy Roman Empire and return England to the flock of Rome.

 

Even if her father insisted on recognizing her half-siblings as his heirs, at least they could be raised to be good Catholics instead of being tainted by their mother’s evil. After all they wouldn’t be the first Tudor king coming from illegitimate stock or the first King of England if one included William the Conquer.

 

However, there would be no peace until Anne Boleyn died for her crimes. When that thought had first occurred to her, Mary had raced to the chapel to beg God’s forgiveness for such a wicked thought.

 

Now Mary could not stop thinking it over and over again until it nearly drove her mad. Finally she sat down at her desk and began to write a letter to a man who had come to Portugal in William Howard’s household.

* * *

 " _He says that his family is eager to help you in anyway that he can,” Susan whispered._

_  
“All right. Send him in,” Mary commanded, still a little suspicious of a man who had accosted her servant simply to pass on a message without anyone knowing._

 

_Her other ladies were elsewhere and it was just her and Susan when the man entered Mary’s chambers, kneeling in front of her and kissing her ring._

_“Your Highness, it pleases me to see that you are well. My master sends me here to assure you that you still have friends in England who are at your disposal,” the man explained._

_“Oh and what friends would that be?” Mary asked skeptically._

_Thomas More had been a good friend to both her and her mother. However when he refused to sign the Oath of Supremacy, her father had exiled him and his wife to Rome._

_The remainder of the Pole and Stafford families were too scared of the deadly consequences to upset the King to speak up of Mary’s behalf._

_As for the Duke of Suffolk, she had expected her uncle to be on her side especially when his mother-in-law was her mother’s most loyal lady. However since she fled England, she had not heard from him and she feared that he too had fallen under the Boleyn bitch’s horrible spell._

_“I am not at liberty to say, Your Highness. But I can inform you that you do have powerful allies who will stop at nothing to help you,” the man explained. “All we need is your command and we shall destroy Satan’s mistress and her spawn.”_

_“No, the children are innocent. I will not harm my half-siblings,” Mary decided, feeling sick at that thought especially when she knew that in a few years, she just might have to kill her half-siblings to protect her own children._

_“And what of your step-mother. Surely you agree that she must die,” the man prompted her._

_“Of course she must but we must do it legally,” Mary said firmly. She had no intention of sinking to her enemies' level and use poison to murder anyone even Anne._

 

_“Her spell is strong, my princess. The King will never see her for what she truly is as long as she is alive,” he remarked, sounding as casual as one would if they were discussing the weather._

_Mary shivered but she shook her head. “Tell whoever it is you are working for, that I am grateful for their support. However my cousin will get rid of the bad people poisoning my father’s mind soon enough,” she said firmly._

_“As you wish but if you were to change your mind, send a messenger to the English Ambassador of Portugal with your seal. I will be able to intercept it before the whore’s uncle spots it,” he said firmly. He then clutched his cross. “I pray that God will keep you well.”_  
  
  
_“And you.”  
_

* * *

That incident had happened months ago and Mary prayed that the English Ambassador had not been called back to England in the meantime.

 

As she wrote the hardest letter she had ever written, she kept reminding herself that it was for the greater good. This was the only way she could save England and her father’s soul.

 

Once the messenger left with her letter, Mary threw up, immediately regretting her actions. But she couldn’t make herself call the man back, not when there was a chance she could avoid the violence that was to come. After all what was one life worth compared to not only the lives of Englishmen but also their very souls.

 

Perhaps Anna was right, she was a delusional fool but what else could she do. She was helpless to save England but she had to try. Even if it went against everything she believed in. Even if it was against God’s will.

 

Anne Boleyn had to die.  

* * *

  ** _March 7 1536_ **

****

Madge was getting married to Sir Henry Norris and as happy as Queen Anne was for her sweet cousin, her resignation from Anne’s ladies was a bit bothersome as it meant she had to deal with a new lady late in her pregnancy.

 

To make matters worse, Anne wasn’t sure what it was about her new lady-in-waiting but there was something about that milky pale sweet face that just made her feel uneasy. Perhaps it was simply her pregnancy making her emotion unbalanced.

 

The girl looked down at her feet, not daring to look up until Anne spoke directly to her and when she did, Anne could have sworn she detected a bit of disgust in them.

 

Yes there was definitely something untrustworthy about this girl. The last time she had a feeling this bad, it had been Eleanor Luke (although in all fairness it was less about her and more about the rumors that Henry had wanted her as a mistress). It wouldn’t be the first time that one of her enemies had tried to put their daughter under her husband’s nose---and considering her father had done it twice, so she had good cause to know what was going on. 

 

However, the triplets had made certain that Henry wouldn’t stray and she couldn’t see how this dull looking wrench could possibly catch his eye.

 

Still better safe than sorry.

 

“Mistress Seymour,” she spoke regally, keeping her voice and her expression neutral. Let the little mouse think that she has the cat fooled.  Or rather let the mouse fool herself into thinking _she_ is the cat.

 

“Yes Your Majesty?” Jane Seymour asked, her voice was dripping with honey and sugar.  Her expression was so perfectly modest and innocent. It was almost as though she was putting on a façade.

 

Anne made a mental note to speak to Nan and Margery about keeping an eye on this girl. She might also ask her father if he knew anything about what the Seymours were planning.

 

She gave Jane a winning smile before saying: “Welcome to court.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, Mary thinks she's doing the right thing. She is not and unfortunately she's dangerous because of it. Not to mention, that letter she sent is not going to go over well.  
> I have a feeling that not many people actually believe Anne was a witch and the people who do are just trying to absolve Henry from the blame.  
> Did I make King John too nice? I haven't really read much about his personality but considering he doesn't seem to participate in wars (although he did defend his country from French pirates), and didn't cut off trade with England despite their shift in religion strikes me as a guy who is harsh with his own people but pretty much is a you leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.  
> Also besides showing how Charles kinda made his brother-in-law side-eye him, I also showed that scene so I could include Anna of Cleves who too my knowledge is passive enough that she won't be landing herself in trouble (Catherine of Parr probably would). I apologize to Catherine of Portugal who killed off solely so I could make Anna the Queen of Portugal.  
> Speaking of Annas. I really need to know a little bit more about Anna of Hungry's personality because I might have made her extremely out of character. Honestly though, I think she is mainly angry because she knows how much her son admires Mary so seeing her acting like a child just really pisses her off because she believes her son deserves better.  
> Isabella is basically a side character which sucks because I wanted her to be a second mother to Mary but I haven't had a chance to develop her.  
> I hope I didn't make King Francis ooc but I know I made Queen Eleanor ooc because I doubt the historical version of her would go barging into her husband's room like that but I wanted it to be clear where exactly Francis' loyalties lie. Just so you know, in history he really was reluctant to send Madeline to Scotland. He's just craftier here and well it will actually work because King James is not getting involved.  
> The summit will not happen for another year which gives us enough time for the drama I hinted at to unfold.  
> Gee I wonder who those allies of Mary's are? Let me give you a hint, it's not just the Seymours although the man who visited Mary is one of Jane's brothers.  
> Yes Jane is here and Anne smells a rat. Just how big of a rat she is remains to be seen.  
> Please review, I crave feedback and as you can see by my long author's note, I really want feedback on what I have listed above.


	6. Suspicious Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the birth of the newest Tudor baby, things grow a little tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I don't know what's with me. Hopefully, I'll get back to updating more regularly soon. Thank you for your patience.

**_May 19 1536_ **

****

After having triplets the first time she ever gave birth, Anne was certain that giving birth to only one baby wouldn’t be so bad. Of course, she was not so foolish to think there would be no pain, only that it would be shorter and not be so excruciating.

 

But after nearly three years, she could not remember what it was like before and therefore despite her fourth child coming into the world in just a little over an hour, she still could not hold back the scream that tore from her lips as she pushed her newest baby into the world.

 

“What is it?” Anne asked as she fell back onto the pillow at last, her forehead dripping with sweat.

 

“A healthy princess, Your Majesty,” the midwife replied with a smile.

 

Some of the new ladies were shooting her worried looks, fearing their mistress would become upset with the news that instead of having a third son, she now had a second daughter.

 

“Give me my daughter,” Anne commanded, ignoring the nervous glances They were fools if they thought a new princess would be a disappointment. “Go alert the king that we have a beautiful princess.”

 

With the Tudor Triplets’ continued health, having another healthy child, regardless of the sex was a blessing especially when many feared she would not be able to bring another baby to term.

 

Not even her father and uncle would grumble that she had a daughter, knowing that with the war on the horizon, another daughter would be useful for a dynastic match. As her father had said nearly three months ago, if only Elizabeth had been born on that fateful summer, a second daughter would not be seen as a good thing. But now she would be celebrated by all, Henry included.

 

Anne stared down at the bundle the midwife placed in her arms, committing every feature of her sweet girl’s face to memory. The baby had no hair yet but she had Henry’s blue eyes. Perhaps she would be the exact opposite of her sister who shared almost none of Anne’s features save for her eyes.

 

The auburn-haired queen looked up when she heard heavy footsteps on the floorboards. Her husband joined her on the bed without a word, looking rather forlorn as he gazed down at his new daughter.

 

Her ladies left the king and queen alone with their new daughter, allowing Anne to comment on her husband’s distant behavior.

 

“My love, what’s wrong?” Anne asked, wondering if Henry was in fact upset that he didn’t have a third son. But his expression was one of sorrow not displeasure; she just couldn’t understand what could be troubling him so.

 

“I was thinking we should call Mary,” Henry explained, not taking his eyes off of the newborn, even reaching out to stroke her cheek. “After all, she is a trueborn princess unlike my traitorous daughter.” While his tone was bitter, Anne could detect the underlying grief in his voice. Even if he were to ever forgive his oldest daughter, she could never be a princess again. “I want to call her Mary but I fear I shall look at her and be reminded of what her half-sister has done.”

 

“We could call her Mary Margaret after all three of our sisters,” Anne suggested. While middle names were uncommon especially in England, it would be useful in this case to stop any sort of mix-up.

 

“Princess Mary Margaret,” Henry repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “My older sister will certainly be less put out this way.” Of course Margaret had never named her sons Henry while their younger sister had done so twice so it was fitting that he name two of his daughters Mary in honor of the late Dowager Queen of France.

 

He frowned slightly as he remembered twenty-years-ago, his pearl had been only three-months-old. He had never dreamed that he would lose her or that she would betray her country. She had been nothing more than a sweet babe in his arms. A little girl he promised to love and cherish for her entire life. She was a girl that was true but back then she had been his only living child and his hope for the future. His hope that he had not completely failed his father's legacy.

 

“Henry,” Anne whispered, stroking his wet cheeks, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb. “It will be all right.” 

 

“I lost my pearl, Anne,” Henry said softly.  “If I hadn’t been so stubborn. If I tried harder to connect with her or at least tried to find a way to keep her legitimate while I got an annulment from her mother, she would still be here.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Anne protested. “You don’t know what would have happened. And even if you did, we can’t change the past. We can only look towards the future.”

 

“I know, sweetheart. Please know that for whatever soft feelings I have for my daughter, the safety of our children is far more important. As much as it pains me to say this, Mary is the enemy and I cannot let my fatherly affection for her blind me to that. We have a Princess Mary Tudor, a trueborn princess despite the Emperor’s claim to the contrary,” Henry declared firmly, scooping up the now sleeping baby out of Anne’s arms and lifting her up as if to get a better look at her. “This is the true Princess Mary!” 

 

“Our daughter,” Anne agreed. She couldn’t help but feel a tiny sliver of pity towards the Lady Mary who would no doubt be devastated once she learned the news of the name of her father’s newest daughter.

* * *

 

  ** _May 20 1536_**

****

Jane Seymour was disgusted when she heard the announcement of the name of Anne Boleyn’s newest bastard.

 

That woman had no shame. Bad enough that she had turned a good King against the true faith, forcing him to destroy the English church and drowning his country in heresy. Furthermore, she had forced him to forsake his true wife and daughter. Because of that dreadful Anne Boleyn, Queen Katherine of Aragon died with her reputation in tatters and the Holy Roman Emperor had to sprint his poor cousin away from England, fearing for her safety.

 

Jane was a good Christian woman who tried her best to see the good in everyone but it enraged her that after all of the trouble she had caused, the false queen had the gall to name her second-born daughter after the exiled Princess of Wales.

 

“This all could have been avoided if you had slipped some poison in her drink while she was still carrying the brat,” Thomas remarked after his sister had finished her rant. Jane could not help but shudder at how casual her brother was speaking about killing someone.

 

“I already told you, I will not punish an innocent baby just because of the sins of her mother,” Jane said firmly. She was certain that the Princess Mary would never want her half-siblings harmed despite the evilness of Anne Boleyn or the fact that her father insisted they were his legitimate heirs.

 

“And do you think you have the stomach to kill her now that she has delivered her babe or will you prove too soft to do that much?” Thomas demanded, his tone as cold as Edward's when he told his sister how to behave when she became one of Anne Boleyn’s ladies.

 

Jane blanched, the thought of killing anyone even the Boleyn witch made her sick.

 

“Surely there is another way. If I can charm the King, make him realize just how much harm she is causing,” Jane began.

 

“There is no time for that. All of England is turning against the true faith and the true princess. Not to mention the Holy Roman Emperor is getting ready to invade England,” their benefactor snarled. “If we don’t act soon, it will be too late.”

 

“It’s up to you, sister, you have to kill her,” Thomas told her firmly. “For the good of everyone.”

Jane nodded. She wished she could go to Edward or her father for advice. But Edward was a reformer just as much as the false queen was and her father was far too loyal to be anything but aghast at what his oldest daughter and youngest son had gotten themselves mixed up in. 

 

“I won’t let her win,” Jane promised. “When the time is right. I will kill the witch and break her horrible spell.”

 

Thomas and their benefactor left the room with a nod, leaving Jane alone with the only other female conspirator: the Duchess of Suffolk.

 

“I know how you feel, Jane,” Catherine Brandon murmured, a dark look in her eyes. “It doesn’t seem right to kill a mother no matter what she has done. But remember that this is the woman murdered the true queen, blacking her heart and is working to destroy the love the people had for the poor Princess Mary. You will be doing everyone a favor for killing that whore.”

 

“I won’t fail the Princess or the King,” Jane whispered, her resolve hardening. She would be England’s savior, she just knew it.

* * *

 

  ** _May 23 1536_**

****

Princess Mary Margaret was nestled in the arms of her godfather, her Uncle George as he made his way up to the alter.  George was already besotted by his baby niece and had a hard time handing her over to Archbishop Cranmer.

 

Although she would be christened with her full name, it had been decided that her nickname would be Marian something coined by her older sister who loved the Robin Hood story.

 

The Duke of Northampton could hardly stand still while Cranmer poured the holy water over the five-day old princess. Jane had given birth to their son, William, almost two years ago and George hoped that their next child would be a girl who would be a companion to her cousin just as Mary’s daughter would be to Elizabeth.

 

Once Marian was back in his arms, George led the procession to the Queen’s apartments where Henry, Anne and the Tudor Triplets would be waiting.

 

While Queen Anne and their children all lay on the bed, King Henry stood next to it as if he was guarding his family from any would be attacker. He extended his arms for George to place his daughter in, nodding when the duke bowed, causing the men and women behind him to do the same.

 

Afterwards the procession left the royal family to coo over their newcomer in private.

* * *

“Papa, Mama, what happened to our other sister?” Harry asked curiously. This was a question that had been playing on his mind ever since he was first introduced to his baby sister.

 

At first he just thought that she was like Henry Fitzroy and simply didn’t live with the four children. But when he asked Lady Bryan if both of his half-siblings were coming to welcome Marion, she had told him that Lady Mary lived very far away and could not come to see them.

 

Harry might have been satisfied with that answer had Elizabeth not pointed out that besides whispers, they barely even know that they had an older sister as Papa never mentioned her. And whenever someone did mention her, they were quickly hushed and told that all talk of Mary was forbidden.

 

“No one will tell us,” Geoffrey commented, sounding cross. “We keep asking and asking but we are told we are too young to understand.”

 

“Did she do something bad?” Elizabeth asked quietly, fearing she already knew the answer to that.

 

“It’s a bit complicated, my treasures. I promise when you are older, I will explain everything,” Henry assured them. “All you need to know is whatever Lady Mary is plotting I will be sure to stop her before she has a chance to do anything.”

 

The triplets exchanged a confused look but they seemed somewhat mollified by that answer.

 

“For today, let’s focus on our Mary,” Anne suggested, not wanting to stay on the topic of her stepdaughter. 

* * *

 

**_May 30 1536_ **

**_Spain_ **

****

Mary collapsed in sobs after she read the letter from her cousin Eleanor, wailing loudly, being unable to keep in her despair at her father’s latest betrayal. Her father had another daughter and he had named her Mary.

 

She wished that she could convince herself that King Henry had named her newest half-sister Mary to honor his firstborn daughter. She wanted to believe that he had named his daughter with Anne Boleyn Mary to mark the love and affection he still held for his forsaken heir.

 

But she knew deep in her heart that was not the case. King Henry (no doubt influenced by his harlot) had named his daughter Mary to replace the daughter he believed was his enemy. The new “Princess” Mary’s name was either a statement of how she was legitimately a princess unlike her oldest sister or perhaps it was Anne’s way of trying to erase her stepdaughter all together.

 

Suddenly Mary stopped crying, her eyes as hard as stone. The Boleyn witch’s spell was strong but she could not erase the true Princess Mary. None of her father’s bastards could replace his true heir.

 

While this new development was certainly a crushing blow, Mary refused to let it destroy her. Anne Boleyn could have twenty children but they were not legitimate nor did they have the backing of a powerful cousin.

 

England might be under the dark cloud created by her father’s concubine but their Princess of Wales would bring the sun again. She would destroy her enemies and take her rightful place much to the joy of her people.

 

Then it would be Anne and her relatives who were forgotten. Their names scrubbed from the pages of history, as they burnt in hell for their sins.

* * *

 

  ** _June 5 1536_**

**_Portugal_ **

****

King John was aware that his cousin and brother-in-law was troubled by his choice of wife. The Pope---who had more reason to be concerned as he was the Head of Religion and he had already had three kings become heretics and cut off all ties from Rome--- trusted the Portuguese monarch's judgement. However, the Holy Roman Emperor seemed to think John was conspiring against him because instead of remaining a widower, he had chosen to marry again, this time to a German Princess. True her brother was a heretic and she had been too but that was none of the Emperor’s business. Just because Charles was married to John’s sister and Charles’ sister had been his late wife that didn’t give him an excuse to meddle in John’s affairs.

 

And just when he thought Charles hadn’t sunk any lower, it seemed that he was using his own son to place doubts in sweet Maria’s mind.

 

“Philip says you will break our betrothal and send me to England to be the bride of either the false Prince of Wales or the false Duke of York,” Maria repeated, sounding quite upset. “You won’t send to a country of heretics, will you Papa? Philip says if I am to go to England, I will damn my soul by just being around Lutherans.”  
  
John suddenly wished his nephew was in front of him so he could box the brat’s ears and slap him silly for daring to scare his darling daughter. There wasn’t a prince in all of Europe who deserved his daughter. She was the only light in his dark world filled with hearsay and treachery. 

 

In truth, John had toyed with the idea of asking the Pope to void the marriage contract between Maria and Philip simply because he feared that Philip would use whatever child they had to say his claim on Portugal was stronger than any future son he had with his new wife.

 

However even if he did that, he would rather send Maria to a nunnery than allow her to marry the illegitimate son of heretics, future king or not. Maintaining cordial relations with the misguided English king was one thing, marrying his children to the illegitimate children of his English counterpart was not a step he would ever be willing to take.

 

“Maria, my darling girl, fret not, I would never send you to a country that did not follow the true faith,” John assured his daughter, even bending down so they could be eye toeye before he embraced her. He kissed the top of her head. “You should tell Philip that not everything his father tells him is the truth.”

 

He didn’t care if that he was essentially calling Charles a liar. That man had the gall to try to use John’s beloved daughter against him. Good God, was Charles so obsessed with control that he actually feared...

 

Could it be? The Holy Roman Emperor was actually afraid. After all, his army was spread so thin and with his enemies coming together in order to defeat him, his territories were slowly slipping out of his control> Perhaps that was why he had turned to England: in hopes of gaining more land to make up for what he had lost.

 

Perhaps he feared that John would be like France and offering his daughter to England would be a pretext to a greater alliance between the two nations against Spain. 

 

If Charles really thought that, than he was a fool. Of course he had fooled himself into thinking that he was prepared to invade England for the sake of his cousin instead of his own greed. King John had never gotten himself mixed up with Europe’s spats before, focusing on his trade routes instead. So why should he start now? All John cared about was securing his country and dynasty.

 

His daughter would marry Infante Philip and one of his sons would marry Infanta Joanna. Other than that, John would have nothing to do with Emperor Charles unless he dared upset his precious Maria ever again.

* * *

 

  ** _June 6 1536_**

**_England_ **

****

 

Henry reviewed the two marriage proposals sent for Geoffrey and Marian. The Crown Prince Eric of Sweden was offered for Princess Mary and Barbara of Hesse for the Duke of York. Both of these prospective spouses were fine matches who would strengthen the bound between England’s allies especially when Harry and Elizabeth were tied to Denmark and France respectfully.

 

As the red-haired monarch studied the suggestions laid out by the King of Sweden who had enclosed his idea for a summit for the leaders and allies of the Schmalkaldic League along with his suggestion of a betrothal agreement between Prince Eric and Princess Mary, his thoughts drifted to how Geoffrey might take the idea of his siblings marrying royalty while he only got a German noblewoman.

 

It wasn’t to say that Barbara of Hesse wasn’t a dynastic match as she was the first-born daughter of one of the German Princes.  But would Geoffrey see that way? Although Henry was certain that no one would ever make the mistake of treating the Duke of York as though he was less important than his brother especially when he was one of the three miracles England was blessed with; however that might not stop him from feeling resentful as his father once had.

 

Henry frowned, thinking about his brother. He would never regret being King but he had to admit things would have been simpler if Arthur had survived his illness.

 

Arthur would never have forced him to enter the clergy or marry anyone so when Henry laid eyes on Anne, he would have been a free man and they would have married much earlier.

 

With Arthur, no one would have questioned his motives if he began to see the corruption of the clergy for what it was and took steps to root it out even though the Bishop of Rome disapproved.

 

Then again, Arthur was always too meek and mild to court conflict. He would probably would have let the dynasty die in the hands of his half-Spanish daughter who would sell England to the Holy Roman Emperor without a care about her people.

 

God damnitt, now his thoughts were straying to Mary. He had not seen in her in years and he had cut off all ties with her when she fled to Spain, betraying her family. It galled him to have to be so cold and distant with her. But what more could she expect? She become a traitor, choosing to be manipulated by her cousin, choosing to have him invade her home country, choosing to allow many Englishmen perish in a bloody war, choosing to put her half-siblings and her own father in jeopardy.

 

And for what? To fulfill her mother’s dream of having Queen Isabella’s descendant on the throne of England? To return England to the Flock of Rome? Did she really think all of the bloodshed that would have to happen would be worth it? His subjects would never accept her as their future ruler now if they had ever planned to in the first place and his daughter would have to put down rebellion after rebellion if she won the crown. Blood would flood the streets of London.

 

Did Mary care about all the trouble her actions were causing?  How had he sired such a bloodthirsty, ambitious child?  One who was so callously prepared to invade her birth country and destroy her flesh and blood.

 

In a fit of anger, Henry let out an inhuman growl, toppling over his desk, kicking at it and the papers that had fallen to the floor.

 

He was just so angry at Emperor Charles, Katherine, the Pope, Mary and himself.

 

If he had come to the conclusion earlier that his marriage was cursed, perhaps he could have petitioned the Pope for a divorce before the Emperor’s troops sacked Rome. Or maybe if he had compromised, asking that his beloved pearl remain legitimate as she was born from a marriage of good faith. He might have avoided this awful situation where he had to treat his daughter as a traitor.

 

King Henry let out a heavy sigh, deciding he needed to visit Anne before he lost himself completely in his dark thoughts.

* * *

The Queen’s apartments were filled with music and laughter when the King strolled in, instantly lighting his mood. The cheery atmosphere was infectious and seeing Anne was like seeing sunshine peering in through dark clouds after days of rain.

 

Henry was so absorbed by his beautiful wife that he barely registered someone tripping over her dress and landing in front of him. He quickly extended her hand to help the blonde lady up.

 

“Are you are all right, my lady?” he asked kindly, as the poor girl sank to the floor in a deep curtsey, clearly embarrassed that she just had made a fool of herself in front of the king. 

 

“I am fine, Your Majesty. I must ask you to forgive my clumsiness,” the woman said softly as Henry helped her up. She still kept her gaze lowered and her cheeks had a faint color of pink. 

 

“There is nothing to forgive. What is your name?” Henry asked curiously. He had not seen her among Anne’s ladies before. In fact he could not recall seeing this lady around court before.

 

“Mistress Jane Seymour, Your Majesty,” Jane replied, her voice as sweet as honey.

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Seymour.”

 

Before Jane could respond, the Queen sauntered up to them, a strained smile on her face.

 

“My love, thank goodness you have come. I need a new dance partner as the one I have has abandoned me for his wife,” Anne jested, throwing an exaggerated pout at George who only winked in response. “And I cannot seem to find one who can keep up with me.”

 

Henry grinned at her, taking Anne’s hand in his and leading her to the center of the room, leaving Jane Seymour to watch the couple dance with a frown.

Not that either the Queen nor the King noticed. As far as they were concerned, they were the only two people in the room. It surprised no one when after their dance, they decided to retire to Anne's bedchamber.

* * *

 

**_June 7 1536_ **

****

At first Thomas believed that Anne was overreacting when she said that she thought Jane Seymour was a threat. He believed that her insistence that the girl had purposely tripped over her dress in order to have a brief conversation with the King was merely her being paranoid as she had before when she saw her husband talking to a pretty young lady.

 

But then he learned that Thomas Seymour was a member of William Howard, Ambassador of Portugal’s household. Something that would not have disturbed him if he hadn’t heard from his brother-in-law that Thomas Seymour had been dismissed because he had disappeared for a few days and refused to tell his master where he had been.

 

Maybe just maybe Anne was right. It was entirely possible that Jane Seymour and her brothers were a threat. Cardinal Wolsey and Queen Katherine had miscalculated, believing that Anne was just another empty-headed lady-in-waiting who would spent only a few weeks in the King’s bed before being discarded and forgotten. The Duke of Wiltshire would be a fool if he made the same mistake and did not at least look into this girl’s family just in case she was trouble.

 

Needing to find out more, Thomas went to speak to Cromwell and the conversation they had was most illuminating.

 

“Her Majesty has good instincts,” Cromwell complimented as he sorted through his papers. “A week ago Master Edward Seymour approached me. He is of the new faith and while he is ambitious, he is not fool enough to side the Lady Mary.”

 

“But his family on the other hand,” Wiltshire prompted, his thoughts racing. Even if the whole Seymour family were involved, someone more powerful must be helping them.

 

With the Poles gone, Henry Courtenay, the Marquess of Exeter was a claimant to the throne of England. If he got rid of Anne and her children, he could blame it on Lady Mary, leaving him as the only candidate the Englishmen would accept as their next monarch.

 

The Duke of Norfolk was another powerful noble who despite his support of the Reformation was a stanch Catholic and it was quite possible that he decided to betray his country in order to save the Catholic Church. Perhaps he was the one who told his brother to hire Thomas Seymour in the first place, instructing the knave to smuggle a letter of support to the exiled Lady Mary.

 

When the Earl of Northumberland died, his brother took his place as earl and as the warden of the North. Suffice to say, Thomas Percy’s feelings on Anne were nowhere as warm as his older brother’s feelings for her. There had been whispers that, the new earl was trying to incite a rebellion. These rumors had not amounted to anything but that didn’t mean the Catholic North weren’t planning to be more subtle in what they perceived would ending the reformation.

 

“As far as Master Seymour is aware, it is only his oldest sister and youngest brother who is involved in this conspiring,” Cromwell replied, interrupting the duke’s thoughts. “He has copies of the letters his brother sent to their sister while he was in Portugal. They are most illuminating.”

 

“Seymour seems quite eager to sell out his own flesh and blood,” Thomas remarked. There was no disapproval in his voice. Politics was a dangerous game and to save his own skin and reputation, Wiltshire would be the same as Edward Seymour. Some called it cowardness, he called it being pragmatic.

 

“Well to be fair Thomas and Jane Seymour are traitors to their country,” Cromwell drawled as he handed the duke the last letter Thomas Seymour sent before he was fired and had to return to England.

 

With every line he read, Thomas’ eyebrow went higher and higher up on his forehead.

“This was sent nearly two months ago, why have you not informed the King!” Thomas demanded, suddenly furious. “That wench could be poisoning my daughter’s drinks and meals. She could have smothered her in her sleep.”  
  
  
“According to Master Edward, his sister is no murderer. She doesn’t have the stomach for it. In fact, she seems more convinced she can charm the King,” Cromwell explained. “Besides just as your daughter is no doubt doing, I have spies in her household who will be keeping a close eye on Jane Seymour. Right now I’m trying to track down the fourth conspirator before I give the King the evidence.”

 

“Four? Who is the third traitor to their country?” Thomas demanded.

 

“The Duchess of Suffolk, funnily enough. Seymour mentioned that she was the one who approached the Seymours in the first place,” Cromwell remarked.  “So far I have no reason to suspect that her husband knows anything.”

 

“He wouldn’t. Charles Brandon is many things but he would never betray the King for Lady Mary let alone England for Spain,” Thomas said coolly, wondering if Catherine Brandon’s Spanish born mother knew anything about her daughter’s treason. After she was the Princess Dowager’s oldest and closest friend. She clearly taught her daughter to be loyal to Spain instead of the land she was born in.

 

“The fourth conspirator is unknown but whoever he is clearly has enough money to not bribe the Seymour siblings’ way into important posts but according to Thomas Seymour’s drinking buddies, Master Seymour has bragged that his benefactor has given him enough money to pay for a finer manor than Wolf Hall,” Cromwell said dryly, a scowl on his usually impassive face.

 

While he was not the most moral man in England, the idea of selling out England for a grand estate was repulsive to him.

 

“I’m beginning to think that the Duchess and her mysterious partner were desperate for allies that they choose that witless fool as their conspirators,” Thomas grumbled, making a mental note to have a word with Sir Francis Bryan who was one of the drinking buddies that Cromwell mentioned. Hopefully Thomas Seymour would either slip up or be coerced into making a slip up. “However that doesn’t mean that he and his sister aren’t dangerous. Jane Seymour is far too close to my daughter for comfort. I don’t care what her brother thinks about her lack of murderous intent. She needs to be removed from Anne’s household immediately.”

 

“And how do you propose to do that without it inspiring questions?” Cromwell asked. “Listen Master Edward has pointed out to his siblings that if the Queen were to die in Sweden, His Majesty would blame the Swedish. Considering the summit is not due to happen until next March, that give us plenty of time to figure out who the fourth conspirator is and we can arrest all four of them.” 

 

Thomas reluctantly nodded, seeing the sense in Cromwell’s words. “I expect to be informed of any new development,” he commanded before turning on his heel and walking out of the Secretary of State’s office.

 

As the Duke 0f Wiltshire walked through the corridors to his own apartments, he couldn’t help but wonder if it really was the Duke of Norfolk who was working with Suffolk’s wife and the two Seymours. If it was his brother-in-law, Thomas would run that guttersnake through with his sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So any guesses on who baddie number 4 is? Any thoughts on the Seymours and Catherine Brandon?  
> Please be sure to review. I live off of feedback.


	7. Blood is Not Always Thicker Than Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Francis suffers a devastating blow that deepens his hatred of Emperor Charles. As for Charles himself, with so much mistrust and slander being thrown his way, he wonders if he made the right choice. Meanwhile Henry and Anne celebrate their children as Anne becomes aware of the conspiracy brewing against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, I had almost all of this chapter done weeks ago but I just kept rewriting the ending.  
> Just to be clear I am aware that historians agree that Dauphin Francis died of natural causes and I am almost certain that King Francis did not suspect the Emperor's hand in his son's murder (or at least not as much as my chapter suggests). However I wanted to give King Francis a bit more motivation to keep his alliance with the Protestant League.

**_August 12 1536_ **

**_France_ **

****

King Francis grimly watched the rain fall from the window of his audience chamber. It had been raining for the past two days. It was almost as if the heavens themselves were crying, devastated by the loss of France’s golden prince.

 

Dauphin Francis, the Duke of Brittany was dead. His son, his heir was gone, poisoned by Sebastiano de Montecuccoli under the orders of that deceitful knave Emperor Charles. It truly didn’t matter who had done it though--- although Montecuccoli would get his just deserts soon enough-- Francis was dead, leaving his father and country devasted in the wake of this great tragedy.

 

As if it wasn’t bad enough that his son had died so young, he had heard whispers that Francis’ death was God’s punishment for allying himself with the enemies of the Catholic Church. Rumors that were no doubt started by his goddamned wife.

 

In his darkest moments, Francis wished he could banish or lock Eleanor up, punishing her for her brother’s crimes. But he knew deep down, despite the less than kind way he treated his wife, she cared for all of her stepchildren and she would never have agreed to poison her sixteen-year-old stepson even if her brother had ordered her to do so.

 

As for the absurd idea that Prince Francis’ death was somehow an act of God, the French monarch didn’t believe it for a second. After all plenty of sons of sinners flourished while the sons of good and pious men died. God had not killed his son, the so-called Holy Roman Emperor had done so and he would pay.

 

King Francis was not a man to be consumed by thoughts of revenge but if he could help free Germany from the Emperor’s grasp, breaking off a big chunk of the Holy Roman Empire than that was what he would do.

 

With that dark thought in mind, King Francis summoned the ambassador of Sweden, telling him that he had decided to accept the invitation of King Gustav, stressing that he was looking forward to making the treaty between France and the Protestant League official.

* * *

  ** _August 25 1536_ **

**_England_ **

****

“It seems that the King of France has agreed to attend King Gustav’s summit after all,” Henry announced, as he read the letter from the English Ambassador as he and Anne lay on her bed. Although he sympathized with King Francis’ loss, especially when it came a few months after Hal Fitzroy’s death, Henry couldn’t help but note that with the death of the Dauphin, it brought Elizabeth’s fiancé one step closer to the throne. Although he knew it was a rather morbid and callous thought, it was rather nice that his daughter might be the future Queen of France someday.

 

 

“I hope he received our letter of condolences,” Anne said softly, feeling sorry for King Francis who despite his earlier treatment towards her sister, had proven himself an ally and friend of theirs. Although she was not as naïve to believe his motives were purely altruistic, she was still grateful for his overtures of friendship and support. “It’s just so horrible that that poor boy was poisoned.”

 

Rumors from France suggested that the poisoner was either working for Emperor Charles or the new Dauphin’s wife, Catherine de' Medici. As terrible as the latter would be, the former rumor terrified Anne as she couldn’t help but wonder if her children were the next victims chosen by the treacherous emperor.

 

Henry could practically read Anne’s thoughts as the fear on her face was palpable. He quickly took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Don’t fret, sweetheart, I would never let anyone harm our children. In fact I’ll strengthen the security in Hatfield if that would please you. Or perhaps in March, our children should join us on our trip to Sweden,” Henry suggested.

 

“No, it would be too long a boat ride for them,” Anne pointed out with a sigh before turning to Henry and giving him a coy smile. “However maybe they could stay at court until we leave for Sweden.”

 

Henry laughed, kissing the back of her hand, deciding that would be a splendid idea.

* * *

 

  ** _August 30 1536_**

**_Spain_ **

****

Emperor Charles read his sister’s letter, his brow creasing as anger and despair bubbled up inside of him. In a fit of anger, he tore the letter up and threw the pieces into the fireplace, not caring that it was currently unlit. 

 

“Christ’s wounds, Catherine de' Medici is known to be an ambitious shrew who has interests in witchcraft and yet it is I who is blamed for Prince Francis untimely and unfortunate death,” Charles spat as he began to pace around the room.

 

It could have been that the prince whose health was rather fragile, had simply died of natural causes. But then the Spaniard was certain, King Francis would find a way to blame him for that was well.

 

“It’s just baseless rumors which King Francis is using to stir up trouble and discredit you, my love. I’m sure that no one is foolish to believe you would ever do anything so dishonorable,” Empress Isabella murmured soothingly, stroking his arm.

  
“Do they? Your brother has married the heretical Duke of Cleves’ sister, just to spite me. France is willing to side with heathens just to defeat me. The English and the Germans see me as an invader, instead of their savior. It seems that all of Europe has decided to destroy the Holy Roman Empire out of petty jealousy!” Charles exclaimed.

 

Once he had hoped that all of Europe would join together to defeat the Ottoman Empire. He had no idea that instead they would ally themselves with the Turks instead to defeat him.

 

“They are afraid of you, Charles, they know that you are a powerful ruler who is blessed by God,” Isabella told him firmly, cupping his face. “You will destroy these heretic leaders and bring the true faith to their misguided subjects.”

 

“If only the Pope had as much faith in me as you do,” Charles scoffed, wondering once again why God’s representative on Earth refused to send the troops of Italy to help him defeat the Turks and the Germans.

“Pope Paul hopes that he can reason with the Lutherans, try to come to some sort of peaceful resolutions. When the heretics prove too stubborn, I’m sure he will bless your mission as he knows as I do that God is on our side. The truth religion will prevail and those who wrongly believe otherwise will suffer the consequences," Isabella whispered fiercely.  

 

 There was no malice in Isabella’s voice, only conviction and passion.

 

“Bella, do you think I made a mistake by bringing Mary to Spain?” Charles asked abruptly, causing his wife to give him a half startled and half horrified look. “As much as I want to believe I did the right thing, as much as I understand that it was my aunt’s dying wish for me to look after her and protect her rightful position as the true ruler of England. And yet, I can’t help but wonder would all of this distrust is because they believe I am only using my poor cousin to usurp King Henry and his whorish Boleyn witch.”

 

It wasn’t that he disbelieved Chaypus when he reported that the false queen had made various threats against both Katherine and Mary’s lives but he couldn’t help but think that with Anne Boleyn’s bastards, she had nothing to fear from Katherine and Mary as the her thrall on England had only gotten stronger with two sons.  

 

“No, you were right to bring Mary here as she is the only one who can save England from the plague of heresy that is corrupting her country just as it is corrupting other countries,” Isabella said firmly. “Our aunt put her faith in you to protect her daughter and make her Queen of England. You are Mary’s only hope of returning to her homeland victorious instead of being falsely labeled as a bastard and a traitor. Surely you will not falter now in obtaining Mary’s rightful inheritance."

 

“No, of course not,” Charles decided as his resolve began to harden. “First I shall bring the German Princes to heel, than I will take England in the name of the Church, God and my sweet cousin.”

It would take fire and blood to cleanse Germany and England of the stain of heresy and witchcraft but he would not fail. Those who stood against him would fall and his enemies would be crushed under the boot of the glorious Holy Roman Empire.

* * *

 

  ** _England_**

****

With the Tudor triplets’ birthday coming in nine days, the Queen’s household was abuzz with excitement as the ladies rehearsed the masquerade that would be performed in honor of the little miracles that were born nearly three years ago.

 

“I must admit that I’m almost worried that when Marian gets older, she might get a little jealous over how big the celebration for her siblings’ birthday is compared to hers,” Anne jested as she finished the stitching of Marian’s new gown.

 

“I’m sure she will eventually understand that with three sharing a birthday, celebrations have to be bigger than they would be if they had three separate birthdays,” the Countess of Salisbury said softly. “Until then we simply will have to work to be sure that she does not feel overshadowed by her siblings.”

 

“Are you speaking from experience, my dear sister?” Anne asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Perhaps but I must admit I prefer standing in yours and George’ shadow. God knows I do not have reputable reputation and I think it is better for me and my children if I stay hidden away. Not that I am unhappy in court, Anne, mind you,” Mary hastened to assure her younger sister, afraid that she might come to the conclusion that Mary would have rather not remain in her position as the Queen’s lady. While she did prefer the countryside, Mary would stay by Anne’s side for as long as she was needed.

 

“Good, I’m glad to have you,” Anne murmured, patting her sister’s hand. She suddenly frowned when she saw Jane Seymour enter her rooms. She raised her voice as she turned in the girl’s direction. “You are late, Mistress Seymour. I expect my ladies to be punctual.”

 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Jane Seymour said, curtsying, her cheeks pink in embarrassment.

 

 

“I suppose it is a good thing you decided not to participate in the masquerade as if you had, the rehearsal would have to start over. And goodness knows you would have needed all the practice you could get,” Anne jeered, causing a few ladies to titer. Tears appeared in Jane’s eyes and it made Anne want to slap her.  She wasn’t sure if the girl was faking the tears or if she really that sensitive. Either way, it made Anne hate her even more. “Go make yourself useful and help Lady Gainsford, Lady Howard and Lady Misseldon with the clothes for the poor.”

 

Jane nodded mutely, making no argument but Anne could see the resentment in her still tear-filled eyes.

 

Mary waited until Jane was out of earshot before speaking to her sister in a low voice: “Don’t you think you are being a bit hard on her?” she whispered.

 

“She’s up to something, Mary, I just know she is,” Anne replied, keeping her voice down. “And before your say I’m being paranoid: Lady Ursula and Mistress Seymour’s sister-in-law have informed me that that so-called innocent chit has made quite a few comments, disparaging my character, calling me a witch and the King’s concubine.” 

 

Lady Ursula was Sir Francis Bryan’s new wife and had met Jane through her brother Thomas. The two ladies were acquaintances at best but not many of the ladies-in-waiting had bothered befriending Jane--- perhaps because they were certain their mistress would be displeased if they did so---- which left Ursula as the only one who Jane felt comfortable enough to confide in. Unluckily for her and luckily for Anne, Ursula was much more interested in pleasing the Queen than making friends with the other lady. Therefore she willingly reported Jane’s true thoughts on Anne and whatever plans she had for the King.

 

As for Anne Stanhope, she was a reformer like her husband and she was willing to play the Queen’s spy, knowing she and her husband stood to gain much by reporting on her foolish sister-in-law.

 

“Still, that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s up to something,” Mary pointed out logically. “And even if she was, whose to say it would work? King Henry has been faithful to you for the past twelve years. I doubt he would stray now.”

 

 

The auburn-haired queen almost laughed, thinking that it would be much simpler she was afraid of her husband straying to another woman’s bed. After all, in order to become queen, Anne had only the Emperor and the Catholic Church to contend with but Jane would have to overcome two toddler princes if she had any hope to steal Anne’s crown. Even if Henry stopped loving his wife, she would forever be the mother of his sons and that alone would stop any woman from taking her place.

 

“Father thought I was being irrational as well, but then two months ago, he told me to make sure Jane didn’t touch my meals or drinks. Now do you really think he would have said that to me if I wasn’t right about her?” Anne challenged, biting her lip in frustration as she recalled that discussion she had with her father.

 

Her father had refused to tell her more, trying to play off his suggestion as merely him humoring her. However, Anne was no fool--- when had her father ever played along with what he considered foolishness? She could tell that he was holding something back and it infuriated her that he wouldn’t elaborate on what was going on.

 

Mary blinked, digesting her sister’s words and choosing her own words carefully. “He must have a good reason. I’m sure he just didn’t want you to worry,” she said softly, reaching out to stroke her sister’s arm.

 

“Or this is bigger than Jane Seymour and he just won’t tell me,” Anne snapped, shaking her sister’s hand off. “I’m the Queen of England, he shouldn’t be keeping these things from me especially if I have a traitor in my household.”

 

 

“Then you should tell the King. If anyone can make Father tell you what is going on, he could,” Mary suggested, thinking that if there was some sort of plot going on, Jane Seymour should be sent far away from the household instead of simply keeping a close eye on her.

 

She glanced at the blonde woman in question. Mistress Seymour was dutifully sewing, not bothering to join in the conversation with her fellow ladies, seemingly absorbed by her task. She seemed so quiet and sweet; not the type anyone would suspect to be traitor but then again, perhaps that just made her more dangerous.

 

 

“Henry will just think I’m being jealous,” Anne said, remembering the terrible fight they had the year the French admiral had come to negotiate the betrothal agreement between Prince Charles and Princess Elizabeth. She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh when she demanded to know why he had seemingly left the Great Hall to talk a French woman who had come with the Admiral. Henry had taken her tone and question poorly and he reminded her angrily that she had no business speaking to him that way and that she had no right to meddle in his affairs.

 

“True but he might not have forgotten the last time you had a bad feeling about someone,” Mary reminded her, referring to her sister’s fears of the Lady Mary. “If you tell him what you told me, he’ll at least get answers from Father.”

 

Anne’s expression was now pensive as she mulled over Mary’s words. Her sister made some good points but she still wasn’t sure if she should tell Henry. Her father might be working with Cromwell to gather evidence against the Seymours and if that was the case, she knew her husband well enough to know that he would want the traitors locked up in the Tower of London immediately, which would allow any co-conspirators the Seymours might have to escape from justice.

 

 

It might be best just to wait. However, one thing was for sure, she would make sure the Seymours were kept far away from her children.

 

Anne glanced at Mistress Seymour who stiffened as though she could feel the Queen’s gaze on her. The little mouse had no idea who she was dealing with. If she thought she and her insipid brother could harm the Queen than she had another thing coming. She had no idea that all she was doing was building her own scaffold.

* * *

 

  ** _September 7 1536_**

****

 

Princess Elizabeth was pleased to be back at court. Hatfield was so small and boring compared to court. Hampton Court Palace seemed to burst with excitement and splendor; boisterous laughter and beautiful music echoing through the halls. Best of all, their parents were waiting to greet them once they had arrived and changed out of their traveling clothes.

 

“Oh my darlings, you have grown so much since I last saw you,” Anne couldn’t not help but gush over her children once they had been brought to her apartments.

 

Even little Marian seemed to have gotten much bigger since Anne last held her in her arms. At four-months-old, there was golden-red hair becoming prominent on her head, she reached out upon hearing her mother’s voice, reaching out toward her and crying when she was not immediately given to her mother.

 

“As impatient as her father,” Anne jested as she rushed to take the now squirming infant from her flustered governess.

 

Henry threw her a wolfish grin, not offended at all by her gentle teasing. “Can you blame us, my love? For every moment we are not with you is pure torture,” he declared dramatically before turning towards the three toddlers. “And how are you, my stars? Are you well?”

 

“We are very well, Papa,” Elizabeth assured him, having nominated herself as the children’s spokesperson by virtue of being the eldest (ignoring Harry and Geoffrey’s protests that they were all the same age).

 

“I hear from Lady Hubert that you have been learning French, my sweet Elizabeth, I shall like to hear some,” Henry remarked as he ruffled her hair affectionately.  While he was quite proud of his boys, he never grew tired of hearing what a clever girl his daughter was, truly the brightest girl her age.

 

“Bonjour, votre Majeste, ca va?” Elizabeth recited, her chest puffed up in pride when her parents complimented her.

 

“Bien, ma petite,” Anne declared from the chair she was now sitting in with Marian on her lap.

 

“Very good, my jewel,” Henry agreed before turning his sons. “Geoff, I hear you have been pestering your governess to be taught how to play the virginals,” he remarked in a mock-reproving voice.

 

“I want to be able to play a song as great as the court musicians,” Geoffrey explained earnestly before turning to scowl at his governess, acting as though she had spoken. “I am not too little!”

 

“Geoffrey, behave!” Elizabeth scolded him, glaring at her brother for almost throwing a tantrum.

 

“Well big boys are patient and wait until they are old enough to have lessons,” Henry pointed out, an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Yes Papa,” Geoffrey said meekly.

 

“I am certain that when you are older you will be a renowned musician,” Henry encouraged him.

 

“And a poet and a knight,” Geoffrey added with a grin. “I want to be the best at everything, just like you, Papa.”

Henry beamed at his, kissing the top of his head. “I am honored to be your inspiration, Geoffrey and I know you will make me proud,” he gushed before turning the Prince of Wales. “And what of my Prince of Wales, what sort of mischief have you gotten yourself into?” He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from his son’s lips as he could not help but think it was just the sort of thing he would have done.

 

“Well, I wanted to go outside and see the horses but Lady Bryan said I could only go if I finished practicing my writing. Geoff offered to do it for me if I gave him my sweets. However I didn’t want to wait so I pretended to be Geoff to get Master Shelton to take me to the stables while Geoff pretended to be me,” Harry explained, not looking ashamed at all, grinning widely. “We had everyone fooled. Well everyone except for Elizabeth but she was there when it happened so she doesn’t count.”  
  
While Harry and Geoffrey did look nearly identical right down to the golden-red hair and brown eyes, people could usually spot the differences between them. However the boys had even gone so far as to switch their clothes and mimic each other’s voice in order to fool their caretakers.

 

Lady Bryan had written that their little deception had worked until the triplets had gone to the dining hall for their midday meal and they sat in their respective chair, indirectly revealing to her what they had done.

  
Both Henry and Anne had found the incident amusing---far more amusing than Lady Bryan had. Henry had even jested that they were chips off of the old block.

 

“The sweets made up for the extra lines I had to write once we got caught,” Geoffrey remarked, giving his brother a small smile.

 

“Ah, so I take it, you kept your end of the bargain, Harry,” Henry said approvingly, thanking many young children would have gone back on their word, either because they didn’t want to give up their sweets or because they had been caught so the deal had become null and void. “A gentleman’s word is bound and that is something a noble king should always remember.”

 

Of course there were times when a king had no choice but to break his word. However those situations a bit too complicated for a three-year-old to grasp.

 

He then decided to regale his children with the legendary tale of Saint George’s dual with the fearsome dragon.

* * *

 

While the triplets were old enough to stay at least for a little while at the feast prepared in their honor, little Marian was kept in the nursery, sleeping soundly in her crib, undisturbed by the merriment in the Great Hall.

 

Although they too would soon be brought to the nursery and put to beds, the triplets got to stay for the presentation of their presents and part of the meal that happened afterwards.

 

The three toddlers tried their best to act as though they weren’t tired but Henry could see by the way Elizabeth seemed to be struggling to not slouch, Harry’s hand over mouth as he tried to muffle his yawn and the eyes of Geoffrey slowly drooping that they were exhausted and would soon need to be brought to their beds.

 

“Perhaps if I offer to go with them, they won’t argue about leaving the feast,” Anne suggested, keeping her voice low.

 

“A good idea, my love, just hurry back,” Henry implored her, kissing her lips before she got up and singled for the governesses to help her usher the triplets out of the banquet hall. With their mother’s soft urging, Elizabeth, Harry and Geoff allowed themselves to be picked up and carried away. As they were walking out the door Henry called out impulsively: “My lords and ladies, I wish to raise my glass in a toast to my queen and my precious children who are my moon and stars!”

 

“Hear, hear,” the courtiers echoed as they clinked their glasses together.

 

King Henry smiled, pleased by the reaction of his court. While war was still on the horizon and his bastard traitorous daughter never far from his thoughts, it brought him happiness to know that his courtiers and his subjects no longer looked down on his wife. Despite their misgivings, Anne had proved herself to be a worthy queen of England, a true Englishwoman who had sought to protect her country from falling into the hands of Spain.

 

He had once told Cromwell that he wanted his people to love Anne as he loved her. He was certain that they not only loved her as much as he did but they would gladly accept her as regent when the time came that he would have to face the Spanish invasion on the battlefield, leaving England in her hands.

* * *

 

Anne had not realized she had been gone that long but once she had entered the nursery, she had heard Marian crying and had parted from her older children so she could comfort her youngest.

 

After making sure all four of her children were sleeping soundly, Anne and her ladies returned to the Great Hall to find that the tables had been cleared and the courtiers were dancing.

 

She requested the herald wait until the song had ended before announcing her arrival, not wanting to interrupt the dance but not planning on just slipping into the Great Hall without any fanfare.

 

The queen did however, open the great doors to see the dancers as she was certain her husband had not waited for her before choosing a dance partner. While she knew that Henry would forgo dancing with whichever lady he had chosen when his wife came back to the festivities, she still felt a need to observe her husband with another lady, just in case.

  
Henry was indeed dancing but he was dancing with the Countess of Salisbury, putting her mind at ease as she knew that Mary would never try to seduce her brother-in-law and even if she was willing to betray her sister like that, Henry was not the type of man to return to a lady he had already discarded as his mistress especially when she was now his sister-in-law.

 

On Henry’s other side, Anne noticed Jane Seymour was dancing with Charles Brandon, something that struck her as odd as she had never seen them interact before. But then again, she was among Anne’s ladies and as the King’s closest companion, perhaps the Duke of Suffolk had seen her and became besotted by the pale wench.

 

Anne glanced back at the tables wondering what Catherine Brandon thought of her husband’s new infatuation. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she studied the Duchess’ expression. The younger woman did not look upset, jealous or bitter, instead she looked like she was calculating something and when the dancers switched partners, her lips curled up into a smirk.

 

When Anne glanced back at the dancers, she saw that Henry was now dancing with Jane Seymour and it suddenly clicked with a sickening clarity.     
  
Catherine Brandon and perhaps her husband were trying to dangle Jane in front of Henry’s nose in hopes to lure him away from Anne.

 

But that couldn’t all there was too it. Her father would not have been so secretive if the conspiracy was as simple as that. There had to be deeper plot at work and there was no way only Jane and Catherine were involved.

 

While Anne could guess what exactly the goal was (Jane’s private declarations that she was a false queen and Catherine’s Spanish mother spelled out their motives), she had no idea who else could be involved and it was possible that her father wasn’t sure either, hence the delay.

 

Anne glanced around the court, studying each face in hopes to discover which one might be plotting against her. The Seymour brothers? The Duke of Suffolk? Her Howard relatives?  
  
  
Suddenly the queen had no wish to rejoin the festivities, feeling that her mind was racing too much for her to be able to enjoy herself. She feigned a headache before letting her ladies escort her back to her chambers.

 

She had much to think about. But there was one thing she knew she had to do. She needed to talk to Henry. Even though he might not believe her especially if she accused the Duke of Suffolk of working against her and despite knowing that her father must have a good reason to keep this quiet, she could never feel that her children were safe if there were traitors within the castle walls.

* * *

“He barely even paid any attention to me,” Jane complained, feeling rather pathetic. What was it about Anne that even when she wasn’t there, the King’s mind was always occupied with her?

 

“This why we must act against the bastards and the whore herself instead of wasting our time trying to gain the King’s affection,” their benefactor snapped. “If we don’t act soon, England will either be destroyed by hearsay or war.”

 

“There is still time. While he waits for Princess Mary to fall pregnant, the Emperor is focused on the Turks and the Germans, not bothering with England just yet,” Catherine pointed out, rubbing her belly as if assuring her unborn child that he would not be born in a time of war.

 

“Exactly. Besides the whore is known for her temper, it won’t be long before she upsets the King and Janey will continue cultivating a friendship with him. And when we get to Sweden, I will find a way to kill the Boleyn witch and blame it on the Swedes,” Thomas said, sounding rather pleased on what he thought was a clever idea.

 

“If you ask me, we should smother the brats now that they are at court and deal with the concubine later,” the man muttered.

 

“How can you say such a thing when you are a father yourself!” Jane cried, disgusted at the man’s callousness. Bastards, they might be but they were just innocent children who did not deserve to die.

 

“My great-grandfather and grandfather lost much because of the Cousin War, neither me or my father want to go through that again. No matter how drastic the solution is, I’m willing to do it,” the man explained. “It’s for the greater good.”

 

“Maybe you are right but we have to find a way to kill them without leaving a trace of evidence that we were involved,” Catherine pointed out logically, ignoring the horrified look Jane sent her way.

 

Killing children was not something to take lightly but these children were Mary’s rivals for the throne and therefore they could not be allowed to live just like their mother. It was for the greater good.

* * *

Little did the four plotters know that Edward Seymour was spying on them by a hidden passageway. He had been aghast when he recognized the man’s voice but his horror only deepened when they began talking about killing the royal children.

 

Keeping his expression composed, he walked to Cromwell’s office, feeling like Judas himself on his way to betray Christ. However, Edward was aware his siblings were traitors and he refused to let himself be swayed by family loyalty. Jane and Thomas had dug their own graves and it was up to Edward to make sure the rest of the Seymours did not fall down with them.

 

He almost ran into Cromwell coming out of his office.  The secretary waited for him to speak, perhaps already guessing what he had to say. After all why else would Edward seek him out so late if he had not found out the name of the fourth conspirator.

 

“It’s the Earl of Surrey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Chapyus will not get any comeuppance for his big lie and for kicking off this plot. He is nothing more but a means to an end for this story and will only be mentioned now and again.  
> I am rethinking the whole Mary is not going to be a villain thing I keep saying as I'm finding it hard to stick to that.  
> The fuse has been lit and now we get to see the four conspirators and their allies get their just deserts.


End file.
